


Stay With Me

by lostmemoria



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Harry Potter References, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 02:02:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2490413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostmemoria/pseuds/lostmemoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jordan Parrish falls in love with terminal leukemia patient, Lydia Martin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay With Me

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally requested by @margrothspiegelman on tumblr for a short ficlet meme with the prompt being terminal illness au, and I originally started this off with wanting it to be exactly that, a short fic. But somewhere, along the way, (you guys should know me by now that I am EXTREME marrish trash) I ended up writing more than expected.
> 
> And there you have it, that's how this gigantic fic was born.
> 
> Although I've tagged most of the warnings already, I just want to let everyone know that I have never had a terminal illness or an illness of any sort and I don't know anyone who's had a terminal illness either. Everything I included about terminal leukemia within the fic was from my own research I did online because I wanted to be accurate. I know I probably wasn't anyways, and you can go ahead and criticize me all you want, and in fact I propose that you do so that I can learn from my mistakes. 
> 
> Further note: The fic is mostly in Jordan's point of view but there are a few scenes I do in Lydia's perspective for reasons you'll probably realize when you read those sections.
> 
> And as always, kudos/comments of any kind/bookmarks are deeply appreciated. Enjoy the fic.

Jordan Parrish doesn’t like hospitals.

But it’s not because he’s scared of needles or faints at the sight of blood—if that were it, he wouldn’t have survived four years in the army. Instead, it’s because the twenty-four year old deputy has been around death far too much that he’s grown accustomed to it. He’s grown accustomed to getting phone calls that one of his friends from his unit has passed away, making the nostalgic memories come rushing back to him painfully. And if it isn’t that, it’s his job as a deputy at the Beacon Hills police department, where he’s often confronted with gruesome crime scenes and bloody bodies.

He’s grown accustomed to death and he wishes he hasn’t.

Jordan remembers one night, about a year ago, when he got a call from a waitress who worked at a twenty-four hour diner. Her voice was trembling as she told him that there was a girl standing on the terrace of a building just across the street. _I think she’s going to jump._

A mob of police cruisers, two firetrucks, and an ambulance all surrounded the building on that cool summer night, and Jordan remembers Sheriff Stilinski’s words echoing through the megaphone, _please, please don’t jump._

But she jumped anyways.

It was the first time Jordan saw anyone die so willingly. He remembers his breath hitching as he turned away, a hand over his mouth, a single tear stinging his eyes. He remembers going home that night, lying in his bed and thinking, _why must they die so young?_

It’s a question that he thinks he might never find the answer to.

Jordan takes a deep breath and then exhales, his grip around the bouquet of Ranunculus tightening as he steps through the automatic sliding doors and into the depressing place. The waiting room is crowded with people, tired and crestfallen expressions evident on every face as Jordan passes through, trying not to glance at them. But it doesn’t stop his mind from thinking who they might be waiting for, and whether or not they’ll be able to see them again after tonight. He makes his way to the front desk, where a nurse with light brown hair and blonde streaks sits, busy playing a game on her phone. When she doesn’t glance up and notice him, Jordan awkwardly interrupts, “Uh--Excuse me, I’m here to visit someone?”

Hearing him, she looks up at him and narrows her gaze, “And what do you want me to do about it?”

Jordan doesn’t know how to respond to that. “Well...Shouldn’t you give me a visitors pass?”

“Ugh, I don’t know,” she groans rudely, before her attention goes back to her phone, thumbs smashing away at the screen.

 Jordan opens his mouth to say something again, but before he can, he’s interrupted by an outburst.

 “ _Malia!_ ”

Jordan watches as a dark haired girl scurries over, snatching the phone from

Malia’s hands, making a noise of complaint escape from her. “What the hell, Kira! I was so close to beating my high score on Candy Crush!” Malia whines, trying to grab her phone back but the girl known as Kira, but she doesn’t allow it.

She tucks the phone into the pocket of her pants instead, so that Malia can’t reach it, and then turns toward Jordan, giving him an embarrassed smile. “Sorry, she’s, um, new. Who are you here to see?”

“It’s okay. And I’m here to see--” Jordan pauses, silently cursing in his mind because he just had to forget the girl’s name _now_. His eyes quickly glance down to the tiny card wrapped around the bouquet and luckily, the name is scrawled across the piece of paper legitimately enough--since the Sheriff’s handwriting is the messiest he’s seen--for him to read. “ _Lydia Martin_ ,” he says, while thinking how awfully pretty the name is, “I’m here to see Lydia Martin.”

“And your relationship with the patient?” Kira asks as she writes up a visitor pass.

Jordan can explain that technically he _isn’t_ related to Lydia Martin in any way at all, and that he’s only really here to deliver the flowers that Sheriff usually gives whenever he visits once a week, but because he’s caught up at a crime scene at the moment, the older man sent Jordan instead. But since he’s pretty sure the nurse wouldn’t care for his story, he just replies, “I’m a friend.”

Malia raises an eyebrow. “You can say _boyfriend_ , we don’t really care.”

Jordan eyes go wide and he blushes, while Kira shoots Malia a glare, which just makes her roll her eyes in response. Kira then turns back to the slightly flustered deputy, whispering another apology on behalf of her co-worker’s behavior. And with that said and done, the bright blue visitors sticker is slapped across Jordan’s officer jacket and he’s given directions to room number three-hundred and thirty-three, which is a long walk to the third floor. Jordan passes by many ill patients along the way--both young and old--who smile at him warmly, and all he can do is smile back sadly.

When he reaches the desired room, the door is already half way open, but he knocks anyways. “Hello?” His eyes glance around the whitewashed room until they stop at the sight of the short bright red hair of a girl sitting in a wheelchair, her back to him. He wonders if it’s her true hair color.

The girl quickly turns towards him and Jordan sees a weak smile brighten her face, but only momentarily because she frowns at the sight of him. “You’re _not_ the Sheriff,” she says in a matter of fact tone, eyebrow arched.

“Uh, sorry?” Jordan runs a hand through his hair sheepishly. “Can...I come in?”

Lydia brings the book she’s reading up from her lap so that it’s covering half of her face, and Jordan catches the title. _Engineering Thermodynamics._ His eyes boggle a bit, surprised, since at first glance, she didn’t seem like the type of person to read such vigorous material. “I guess. Since you’re already here,” she says nonchalantly.

“Okay…” Jordan walks in, slowly making his way toward her, but keeping his distance. He extends the flowers out toward her. “They’re from the Sheriff.”

She looks up at him and then closes the book, setting it down on her lap. “He never forgets,” she says, this time a genuine smile crossing her lips as she takes the flowers, admiring their beautiful colors. “I _love_ ranunculus.”

Seeing her smile, Jordan can’t help but smile back at her, as he finds his gaze giving her a once over. Besides her bright red hair, she has these large light green eyes that just seem to light up the dull room, along with her smile, that is, when she _is_ smiling.

Lydia frowns again. “Why couldn’t he come?”

“He got caught up in a crime scene,” Jordan says, crossing his arms over his chest. “He wanted me to let you know that he’s really sorry though and that he’ll definitely see you next week.” And then, thinking his work he is done, he continues, “So, um, I guess I should get going. But, if you want to give him a message, I can let him know--”

“Oh, no, you’re not going anywhere _yet_ ,” she cuts him off, flashing him a devious smile.

“Wait. What?” Jordan furrows his eyebrows, confused. “Why not…?”

“You have to read to me first,” she deadpans.

Jordan’s mouth goes dry. “I…. _how old are you?_ ”

Lydia rolls her eyes. “I’m eighteen, god, but that doesn’t mean someone can’t _read_ to me. You’re just like Malia.”

“You mean the girl at the front desk?” The deputy asks, remembering the nurse playing Candy Crush on her phone.

The strawberry blonde wheels herself over to the side of the bed, leaning forward slightly and reaching for something underneath it. She nods, “I always ask her to read to me and she complains but ends up doing it anyways, because she kind of _has to_ , but she has such a problem pronouncing some of the words, and then she get’s annoyed when I correct her...”

When it starts to look like she’s struggling to reach for whatever that’s under the bed, Jordan quickly goes to her side, crouching down, “Here, let me--”

“ _No_ , I got it,” she insists, but just as she grabs what looks like a box, she stumbles forward, falling out of her wheelchair. Lydia winces from the fall, and Jordan immediately helps her back up, one hand reaching for hers while the other eases around her waist.

“Are you okay?” Jordan asks, worried, as she stands back on to her feet. She clings to him and as he glances down at her, he notices how close she is to him, and for some reason he feels his heart beat a little faster.

“Yes, gosh, I’m fine,” she says sharply, but Jordan can tell by the look on her face that she’s not _fine_ , because she’s biting her lower lip and there’s a look of discomfort crossing her features. “Just...help me on to the bed.”

And he does just that, slowly and carefully, so that she’s lying down and a sigh of relief escapes from her. Jordan wonders if it’ll be rude to ask why she’s here.

He ultimately decides not to take that risk.

After she’s settled into the hospital bed, Jordan crouches back down and takes out the box from underneath the bed. He arches an eyebrow at her, “What’s this?”

“My drug stash.”

 “ _What?_ ”

 She rolls her eyes at him again. “Calm down, deputy. Turn the box around.”

 Jordan does as he’s told and when he does turn the box over, he sees the golden lettering across the worn out box. _Harry Potter._ He thinks, _oh._

 “Never seen a Harry Potter collector’s box before?” She asks him, amused.

 He shakes his head. “Uh, I’m not really a big fan.” That’s an understatement, he’s never even _watched_ a Harry Potter movie before, nevertheless read the books.

 Her eyes widen at him. “Oh gosh, you’ve been deprived of the best thing that’s ever happened to the world since....the nineteenth amendment.”

Jordan chuckles. “Wow, I didn’t know I missed out on so much,” he says jokingly as he sits down across from her. He opens the box and looks at the thick hardcover books neatly placed inside, arranged from the first book to the last. “Do...you, uh, want me to start from a certain place?”

Lydia shakes her head. “Start from the very beginning,” she tells him, small smile on her face as she gets comfortable.

The deputy stares at her for a moment, slightly in disbelief that he’s actually doing _this_ , but also awestruck by how beautiful she is, something he knows he must have realized upon first seeing her, but didn’t really get a chance to capture it completely until now.

“C’mon, I don’t have _all day_ ,” Lydia  groans, and for some reason, Jordan can’t help but think of the possible dark meaning behind the words. But his mind pushes the  thoughts away as he pulls out the first book and momentarily glances at the boy on the broomstick on the front cover, before flipping to the first page.

He clears his throat, “Uh, okay, here goes nothing... _Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud that they were perfectly normal…”_

Jordan doesn’t know how long he reads for, because he gets so engrossed into the story that he doesn’t even realize that Lydia fell asleep a long time ago. It’s only when Kira enters the room and tells him that visiting hours are over does he put the book back into the box--making sure to save his spot--and then places the box carefully under her bed where it belongs. Jordan glances once more at the sleeping Lydia, the only sound coming from her is her soft breathing, making him smile softly. Before he leaves, he pulls the hospital blanket up and over her body so that she’s warm, and then curls a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, his touch not even making her flinch.

Jordan follows Kira out and as they walk, the deputy can’t help but feel his curiosity get the best of him again. “Um, is...she going to be okay?” He finally asks.

Kira freezes in her tracks and Jordan notices the nervous expression fall on her face before she tries to hide it with another smile. “Of course she is!” She exclaims, rather skittishly, waving a tense hand in the air as she continues, “She’s going to be just--”

“ _Stop lying, Kira._ ”

Malia appears around the corner of the hall, arms crossed over her chest as she walks over. She momentarily glares at Jordan, probably silently blaming him in her head from getting scolded by the shorter girl earlier. “Kira is really bad at giving, well, bad news,” Malia says, making the other girl drop her gaze to the floor. Then, rather surprisingly, Jordan watches Malia’s features slightly soften into something much more sorrowful than scorn. “Look, I’m not gonna give you any false hope, because there’s nothing worse than giving someone false hope.”

Jordan stares at her. “What do you mean…?”

Malia shifts from one foot to the other, chewing on her lower lip thoughtfully. “She’s...not going to make it. The cancer, it’s in its last stage. _Terminal Leukemia_. Doctors say she has about less than six months.”

He feels his breath hitch. Jordan tries to register what Malia just said, but his mind doesn’t seem to accept it. Technically, he barely even knows Lydia Martin, but after meeting her for that short amount of time, he never would have thought such a brilliant and amusing girl could possibly be _dying_. Malia grabs Kira’s hand after a few moments, tugging her away and leaving Jordan standing there alone. The words continue to echo through his mind over and over, _she’s not going to make it, she’s not going to make it, she’s not going to make it._

And Jordan doesn’t how to feel about it.

He slowly manages to make his way out of the hospital, a heavy weight on his shoulders as his hands bury deep in his pockets. The chilly January air hits his face when he exits, and Lydia’s smile flashes through his mind, making him think once more, _why must they die so young?_

 

 

**

 

 

Somehow, he finds himself visiting her again.

And Jordan really can’t explain why. What’s so different now that he’s willingly able to step inside a hospital without feeling so anxious? Did he feel pity for Lydia? Sympathetic? Did he feel that if he didn’t visit her--now that he knows that she’s going to be, _leaving_ soon--he’s going to feel regretful?

No, no. It was none of that.

He just really wants to see her again.

“You’re back.” It’s the first thing Kira says to him when he approaches the front desk.

Jordan smiles. “Surprised I came back?”

She grins, “Not really. Now I just know you’ll be one of the regulars.” She hands him the blue tag and Jordan stares at her, slightly wide eyed.

He wasn’t expecting that. At all. But he smiles. “Thanks,” he says, and then glances around. “Where’s your friend?”

“Oh, Malia? I made her go read to five year olds,” Kira replies with a bright smile.

Jordan tries to imagine that scene. He can’t. “Interesting…,” he murmurs, letting out a small chuckle before finally walking away towards Lydia’s room.

And as he walks away, he hears Kira call out, _No flowers this time?_

Jordan doesn’t find the strawberry blonde in her room though. He finds her out in the hall. She’s walking, barefoot, slowly, with a nurse by her side, holding her so that she doesn’t fall. It’s only when the two round the corner to come back up the hall does Lydia finally see him. A surprised expression falls on her face, probably because she wasn’t expecting to see him again, and honestly, Jordan wasn’t expecting to see her again either. He watches as Lydia says something to the nurse, who nods and then leads her back to her wheelchair, where she sits down and wheels herself over to Jordan.

“I’m pleasantly surprised, _deputy_ ,” she says with a grin. “I was pretty sure I scared you away.”

“I have a name, you know,” he says to her, returning the smile. “Jordan Parrish. But most people just call me Parrish.”

“Oh really?” She says, smug look on her face. “I’m going to call you Jordan then.”

The deputy is surprised by this, because almost everyone he knows calls him by his last name. It felt strangely refreshing to hear his first name roll off her tongue like that. But he doesn’t question it, as he pushes Lydia’s wheelchair back into the room for her so that she doesn’t need to tire out her arms. He half expects her to question him why he came back, but she doesn’t, sparing him the embarrassing situation of having to come up with a bullshit answer. So instead, he takes the opportunity and asks, “You have trouble walking?”

She gives him a weak laugh. “It’s called _peripheral neuropathy._ That’s what happens when you go through chemo. It sucks the life out of you. Literally. But, I bet Kira already told you that.”

Jordan swallows hard. He’s not sure if he wants to have this conversation. “No, she didn’t, actually.”

Lydia turns herself so that she’s facing him. She has her head tilted to the side, staring up at him curiously. “Really? What did she tell you then? Did she tell you I was going to die soon?”

Her bold words leave Jordan speechless and stunned, a shiver running down his spine at the thought of such a young heart accepting her fate so willingly, so _bravely_. When he doesn’t say anything for the longest time, Lydia continues, “If you’re here to pity me, I don’t want it. I get enough of that from my mother _already_. I’ve managed to learn that you live in the moment, you die in the moment, but most importantly, you have to take it all one day at a time. And that’s what I’m doing, taking it one day at a time. So like I said before, if you’re here to pity me, _you might as well leave_.” She gives him a serious look and Jordan doesn’t know whether to feel intimidated or in awe by her words.

“Actually,” he finally says when he manages to find his voice again, “I was just hoping I could read to you again, if that’s okay.”

An expression of surprise crosses her features at his request, because it’s the first time someone’s treating her like an actual person instead of a patient. It makes a small smile form on her lips.“Sure,” she replies, “Maybe I can convert you into a Harry Potter enthusiast that way.”

And so, Jordan reads to her. 

He reads and reads, not once taking a break, and he’s sure that Lydia would end up nodding off somewhere along the way, but whenever he glances up at her, her gaze is still on him attentively, listening and clinging to his every word in such a way that it makes Jordan blush a bit. And as he continues to read, he can’t help but ask questions because being a absolute amateur to the Harry Potter universe and not a big reader of fantasy novels, Jordan finds it slightly difficult for his mind to wrap around some of the things going on.

“Wait, _why does he sleep in a closet?_ ”

“Because his aunt and uncle hate him.”

“Why? He’s pretty funny. And how come he can talk to snakes? Can all wizards talk to snakes? Why--”

“ _Jordan_ ,” Lydia says, cutting him off as she rolls her eyes. “I know you’re a deputy and all, but seriously, tone it down with the questions.” She giggles and Jordan feels the tips of his ears turn red.

“Sorry, force of habit,” he says sheepishly.

Lydia giggles. “It’s okay. And don’t worry, all your questions will be answered by _at leas_ t the fifth book, I think.”

Jordan frowns. “You’re joking right?”

And that’s when Lydia laughs. _Hard_. And it surprises Jordan for a second because he hasn’t seen anyone laugh so openly for such a long time. He watches her as she throws her head back, reclining into the bed and clapping a hand over her mouth, her eyes crinkling as she tries to calm down. The whole sight makes Jordan smile.

“I haven’t heard that laugh for a long time.” Malia stands at the doorway, holding what looks like a tray of food for Lydia. Lydia’s face is completely flushed when Malia strides in, her eyes settling on the book Jordan’s holding and she snorts, “She making you read that to her too?”

“I don’t really mind, I kind of like it,” Jordan says with a smile.

Malia crinkles her nose in response, turning to Lydia now. “Eat up,” she says simply, revealing a bowl of cereal, strawberry yogurt on the side, and sliced apples on the tray.

Lydia pouts. She actually _pouts_ , and Jordan thinks it’s adorable. “I’m not hungry,” she says, pushing the tray slightly away.

Malia frowns. “I took that excuse yesterday. But not today. You gotta eat something, Lydia.”

Jordan’s about to say something, hoping it makes Lydia eat something, but before he can, his phone rings. It’s the Sheriff. “Excuse me,” he says quickly to the two girls, getting up and walking to the corner of the room before answering the call. He can hear the two girls arguing quietly in the background.

“Yes, sir?”

“Parrish, there’s been a 481 on the highway. I need you to get there as fast as possible and gather eyewitnesses,” the Sheriff says quickly.

“Hit and run? Any clue on the casualties?” Jordan asks seriously.

“A seventeen year old boy, serious head trauma, ambulance took him to the hospital.”  
  
The deputy cringes. “Jesus. Okay, I’ll be there. I’ll let you know if there’s any crucial information, sir.”

“Right. Keep me updated.”

And with that said, the Sheriff hangs up the phone and Jordan does the same. When he turns back toward Lydia and Malia, he sees that Lydia still hasn’t touched her food. And no matter how much Jordan would rather sit there and try to convince her himself, and maybe if he has to, _feed her himself_ , but he can’t because he has a responsibility towards his duty. “I just got called on to a crime scene, so I’ll have to go,” Jordan says, his gaze settling on the strawberry blonde.

Lydia frowns at him, but nods, realizing that he is after all a police officer. “Will you come back?” She suddenly asks him, and Jordan stares at her, wide eyed. He didn’t expect her to say that.

Malia glances up at him, grinning, and also asks, “Yeah, you’re coming back, _right?_ ”

Jordan shouldn’t be feeling this conflicted, but he _is_. He’s reached a certain point where his mind is telling him continuously, _stay with her, stay with her, stay with her_ , and it’s kind of embarrassing since he’s only known her for two days. Yet, she’s managed to intrigue him in just those two days that he’s willing to come back. He gives Lydia a small smile before finally saying, “Only if you eat something.”

Malia’s eyebrows raise at his proposal. “I like where this is going.”

Lydia doesn’t, however, and Jordan can tell by the disapproval on her face. He’s sure that she’s going to say _no_ , but to Jordan’s surprise, she reaches for the cup of yogurt and digs a plastic spoon it it, bringing a spoonful of strawberry yogurt to her lips. The plastic utensil comes out clean as she licks off any yogurt goodness leftover before dropping the spoon back in the tray. Lydia smiles at him satisfyingly, her expression saying, _your turn, deputy._

Jordan smiles. _Close enough_. Because even if he tries to stop himself, he knows he can’t. “I’ll see you soon.”

And as he leaves, he hears Malia say in a pleasantly astonished voice in the background, _that’s the fastest you’ve ever agreed to eat!_

  
  
  
**

 

  
Kira turns out to be right, because Jordan becomes a regular visitor for terminal leukemia patient and Harry Potter enthusiast, Lydia Martin.

It starts off with just seeing her once a week, but then as the weeks pass by, it becomes more often. Twice a week, three times a week; Jordan doesn’t even realize when he starts to memorize the names of nurses, besides Kira and Malia of course, a duo he’ll probably end up remembering for the rest of his life. But it doesn’t just stop there, because he starts to do the same with certain patients. Right next door to Lydia is a comatose patient by the name of Camden Lahey, who used to be in the army like Jordan, and who Lydia likes to visit sometimes because the guy doesn’t get too many visitors except from his brother, a tall awkward boy by the name of Isaac. Jordan’s seen him a few times and he can tell how completely empty he is, devoid of almost any feeling, except for the hope that one day his big brother will wake up.

And then there’s David, a boy from the children’s ward a floor down, diagnosed with bone cancer, yet still somehow finds the energy and liveliness to piss Malia off three times a day. There’s also Becky, an older woman who walks through the halls and greets everyone who passes by, and Patrick, a man that’s too cranky for his own good, and Oliver who plays chess by himself--

There’s many more, some of who Jordan isn’t even aware as to why they’re even here, but in a way, just like how the hospital has become a home for them, it’s also strangely become a second home for Jordan. (Mostly because he’s there a lot and _definitely_ not because he finds a certain comfort within Lydia Martin.)

For the first few weeks, all they do is read. They read so much that Jordan’s surprised when he finishes the first book out of the seven book series, not believing that he read all those words _out loud_. And it’s only when they begin the second book does Jordan start to learn more about the strawberry blonde, as if she was waiting all this time to tell her, just to make sure he doesn’t flake out on her. Jordan learns that she’s a senior in high school, technically still enrolled and doing all the work for her classes so she can graduate on time. And when Jordan comes in sometimes, he usually finds her doing school related work, studying and hunched over a calculus textbook. He also learns that she’s applied to every Ivy League college, something she did when she was still going through chemo, which was a time where she thought she was actually going to win the fight.

That’s how he learns that Lydia never had a chance against the cancer. Unlike other patients, Lydia never went into remission or relapse, because the cancer never went away in the first place. _That’s why they call it terminal leukemia_ , she told him once, _when all other treatment fails._

And she tries her best to hide it, the pain of it all. She puts up a strong facade, by smiling and laughing at Jordan’s dumb jokes, trying to act as if everything is okay, as if she _isn’t_ dying, and Jordan doesn’t know if it’s because she’s in denial or acceptance.

He soon learns that it’s the former.

“Everything you need to know about terminal leukemia,” Kira tells him one day, handing him one of those booklets that’s typical for hospitals to carry around. “Well, not everything, but all the important stuff, basically. I...suggest you read about them.”

And he does, because he goes home that night and barely gets any sleep because he spends most of the night reading the booklet inside and out, and then researching more on internet after that. He reads about hospice and red blood cell transfusions, along with something known as the five stages of grief. _Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance._ And the more he reads, the more a part of his mind tells him to _stop_ , reminding him that Lydia is just a girl, an eighteen-year old girl with a life threatening disease, but no matter how much the reasonable part of his mind hammers him on it, he can’t help but think, _no, she’s more than that._

The first stage in the five stages is denial. _The person is trying to shut out the reality or magnitude of his/her situation, and begins to develop a false, preferable reality._ And at first, Jordan doesn’t see how Lydia is in denial, but as February dawns on them, and the hospital starts putting up ridiculous Valentine’s day decorations, Jordan _sees_ it. He sees it in the way that she refuses to have anyone help her, the way she acts like nothing is wrong with her--that nothing hurts, when really it does. He sees it in the way she talks to him about attending college in the fall, wanting to major in mathematics and physics at the same time, because she has this outstanding dream of winning a Fields Medal one day, and Jordan smiles through it all, even though he knows and she _knows_ , that she’s not going to make it till fall.

When February fourteenth comes around, Jordan decides to get Lydia something. He stops by the florist and picks up an arrangement of ranunculus, along with a box of chocolates with peanut butter filling, just how Lydia likes them. He takes them to the counter to pay and even though he’s aware that Kira’s probably going to scold him for getting Lydia the chocolates, especially since she’s on a particular diet, he figures that one or two sweets won’t hurt her.

The clerk rings everything up and smiles at him. “Your girlfriendwill love these!” She exclaims, admiring the flowers and making Jordan’s mouth gape open as he turns red.

“No--wait, it’s not for my--” But it doesn’t matter, because she’s already moving on to the next customer, a man in his mid thirties with a large bouquet of roses. And Jordan thinks, _of course she would assume that, who else would she think you’re possibly buying flowers for on Valentine’s day?_

Definitely not for a terminal cancer patient who he can’t seem to take his mind off of.

Jordan drives to the hospital and as soon as he enters, he sees Malia’s annoyed expression from where she stands behind the front desk. Jordan can’t help but smile. Even on Valentine’s day, the girl looks like she’s going to kick someone’s ass. She crinkles her nose when Jordan approaches, the sight of the flowers and chocolates absolutely sickening her. “Ugh, not you too.”

The deputy shrugs. “I know she loves ranunculus and peanut butter filled chocolates, so I thought why not?” He watches as Malia eyes the box of chocolates. “Do you want one?”

Malia immediately redirects her gaze away from the chocolates and frowns. “Of course not. They’re for Lydia, so you better take them to her before Kira finds out you’re sneaking chocolates in.”

“Right,” Jordan says. “Where is she anyways?”

Malia shrugs. “Probably passing out handmade Valentine day's cards to the little devils in pediatrics.”

He chuckles. “I can see her doing that. Anyways, Happy Valentine’s day.” He turns to leave and he can hear Malia groan behind him, while mumbling, _ugh just another day for people to have an excuse to have hot sex._

Jordan finds Lydia in her room, sleeping. He slowly walks inside, placing the flowers in a vase on the bedside table and the box of chocolates next to it before moving his gaze back to her, where she sleeps peacefully. Jordan really doesn’t want to wake her up but at the same time, he’s not too keen on leaving right away, so he gently takes a seat on the bed with her, the mattress shifting slightly underneath his weight. As he looks over her, he swears that everytime he sees her, she’s getting weaker. She’s losing weight, mainly because she barely has the appetite to eat anymore, but also because the cancer is eating her alive. She looks small, thin, and almost fragile under the thick hospital blankets and Jordan notices how her face is starting to slowly lose it’s color, her once rosy red cheeks no longer evident.

He reaches out to caress her hair, his fingers slowly working through the tiny tangles. Lydia moves at his touch, her eyes slowly fluttering open until her light green eyes are staring right at him. She gives him a weak smile. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry I woke you,” Jordan says instead.

“It’s okay, I think I’ve been sleeping the whole day anyways,” she says softly, as her gaze moves away from him and towards the bedside table, where her eyes go wide at the sight of the flowers and chocolates. “Are those for me?”

Jordan feels himself blush. “Yeah.”

The smile on her lips turns wide as she looks up at him again with a playful expression. “Careful, deputy, otherwise people will think you’re my _boyfriend_ ,” she says teasingly, making Jordan get even more flustered, a sight that Lydia clearly enjoys. She struggles to sit up and he immediately goes to her aid.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Like a million bucks,” she replies with good humor, instantly reaching for the chocolates, her fingers slightly brushing across the flowers for a few good seconds, her features softening. “...Thanks, by the way. For all this.”

“Of course,” Jordan says, smiling as he watches her pop one of the chocolates into her mouth, a satisfying look crossing her face. She reaches for another one but before she does, her eyebrow arches questionably.

“Wait...Aren’t you suppose to be like on a date or something?” Lydia asks.

The question easily takes Jordan off guard, especially since he hasn’t had a valentine’s date for a good year or two. It’s not that he has a problem getting dates, because he _does_ get dates, it’s just the women he ends up dating get annoyed by him when they realize that he doesn’t have too much time to spend with them, being a deputy with the oddest shift hours and all. “I guess my luck with girls isn’t that great,” he says while sheepishly running a hand through his hair.

Lydia smirks. “Really? I’d think you were quite lucky with the ladies, deputy.”

He has to look away from her now, because _god_ , he can feel his face burning up bad. It genuinely surprises him how easily flustered he gets around Lydia, mainly because no woman has ever made him feel like this, and yet here he is, blushing because of an eighteen year old. Jordan swallows hard and tries to change the subject, “Kira told me you haven’t been eating anything?”

Lydia’s surprisingly on her third piece of chocolate now and she frowns at his question. “That’s because all they give me is bland cafeteria food. Anyone would lose their appetite eating that,” she says with a roll of her eyes. Then suddenly, she stops midway on her fourth chocolate, an aching expression appearing on her face.

Jordan’s eyes widen. “Lydia? Are you okay?”

Lydia sets the box of chocolates aside, and abruptly gets up, wincing when she  tries to walk because she staggers a little. Jordan gets up from where he’s sitting to help her but she stops him with a raised hand. “No, I’m fine, _it’s okay_. I’ll just be right back,” she says slowly.

Jordan, of course, doesn’t believe her. “Lydia…” He takes one step forward and she takes one step away from him, and he wonders why she keeps pushing everyone away. He can’t do anything else besides watch her stumble into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. He hears the water run and that’s all he hears for the next few minutes until she audibly gags, then retches, until she finally vomits. Jordan’s at the bathroom door in seconds, knocking on it and then trying to say in a leveled tone, which ultimately comes out as worried, “Lydia? Are you okay in there? Do you want me to get Kira?”

No response.

Jordan, who’s just about freaking out now, reaches to turn the knob and just barge in, but stops when he hears the toilet flush and soon after, the door opens. Lydia stands there, one hand weakly gripping on to the side of the door while sighing heavily. “Whatever you do, don’t tell Kira,” she finally says, wearily. Jordan can tell by the tone of her voice that this isn’t the first time it’s happened.

“Lydia, I really think--” But before Jordan can even finish, Lydia takes a step forward and stumbles into him, burying her face into his chest and wrapping her arms around him, before letting out an indelicate sob.

“Can we just stay like this for a bit…?” Lydia chokes out, her voice slightly muffled into his shirt but she’s just audible enough for Jordan to hear. “Just stay with me. Please.”

And Jordan doesn’t need to be told twice, because that’s all it takes for him to wrap his arms around the strawberry blonde, pulling her closer to him as one hand strokes her hair soothingly, and the other rests on her back. He hears her continue to sob, but he can tell that she’s still trying to hold back, still trying to stifle it. “Just let it all out,” Jordan whispers in the wildness of her hair. “It won’t make you any weaker. It’ll make you stronger, actually. _Just let it all out_.”

She seems to understand, because her sobs start to turn louder and she clings to him harder, before she finally says in a trembling voice, “Everything hurts so bad. _Why does it hurt?_ ”

 _Because you’re drifting away_ , Jordan thinks. But he doesn’t dare say that out loud. Instead, he just hugs her tighter, because if that helps the pain go away, even by just a little bit, Jordan will go ahead and hug Lydia Martin for as long as she wants him to.

 

**

 

 

He starts to see her at her worst.

Technically, it’s not Lydia at her _worst_ , it’s the cancer at its worst. It’s eating her whole, pressing her deeper and deeper into a pit of agony to the point where she can’t lift herself back up anymore. And it all started when Malia came into her room one day, at the usual hour, with lunch. She placed the tray down in Lydia’s lap as usual, before moving towards the windows to open up the curtains, making some remark that she’s not Edward Cullen and therefore needs to get some light in the room. But most importantly, Lydia didn’t even touch her food. Malia’s used to this though, since Lydia’s used to making a fit when it came to eating her food. But this time, it was different. Malia tried to convince her to eat something, telling her that if she doesn’t eat, she’d starve to death. Malia said it jokingly, all in good humor, but Lydia’s response turned out to be anything but humorous.

_I’m dying already. What’s the difference?_

The words shocked Malia because she’s never heard Lydia say anything of the similar before. And after failed attempts at trying every possible way to get her to eat something, Lydia couldn’t take it anymore, because she ended up pushing the tray of food off her lap, making it drop to the floor loudly, its contents spilling across the whitewashed floors.  

And from what Malia told Kira, which in return, Kira told Jordan--because for some reason, Kira trusts him with Lydia--Jordan learns that Lydia’sbasically been yelling at anyone who’s been trying to help her. _Anger_ , he thinks. The second stage. _Once in the second stage, the individual recognizes that denial cannot continue. Because of anger, the person is very difficult to care for due to misplaced feelings of rage or envy._

It’s a chilly Friday afternoon when Jordan finally decides to visit Lydia and he can’t help but feel hesitant. He’s hoping he doesn’t say or do anything that might cause her to get more upset, and he probably realizes that the better option is to not go at all, but he can’t help it.

He wants to see her.

When he reaches the hospital, he doesn’t see Malia or Kira anywhere, so he heads straight up to the third floor and as he reaches her room, the door suddenly opens, making him freeze in his tracks. For some reason, he’s expecting to see Lydia, even though he knows that it’s highly unlikely. Instead, a woman walks out. She has similar bright hair like Lydia, and as she wipes a stray tear away from her eye, Jordan realizes that she’s Lydia’s mother. She notices him right away and surprisingly smiles at him--although it doesn’t cover up the sadness clearly evident in her eyes--and says, “You’re Jordan, right?”

The deputy’s eyes slightly widen and for some reason he gets tongue tied, probably because he still hasn’t registered the fact that the only reason Lydia’s mother knows his name is because Lydia told her about _him_. He manages to nod to her question though, and her smile turns a little wider.

“She’s told me about you,” Mrs. Martin says, and then as if forgetting her manners, extends out her hand. “Oh, sorry, I completely forgot to introduce myself!” She lets out a small forced laugh and it makes Jordan slightly cringe. She’s _so_ hurt and it’s so evident. “I’m Lydia’s mother. Natalie Martin.”

He shakes her hand and gives her a sad smile. “It’s nice to meet you Mrs. Martin.” _Although_ , he thinks, _I wish it wasn’t in such circumstances._

“Are you going to go see her?” She immediately asks, and Jordan catches the nervous edge to her voice.

“Yeah. I heard about--”

“--What happened? Yeah. Me too.” Natalie’s gaze shifts to the floor as she bites her lower lip anxiously. “Can you...Make sure she eats something? She wouldn’t listen to me _at all_. But then again, it’s not surprising. We haven’t been on good terms for a while...” She looks back up at him, forcing another smile, and Jordan can tell that she’s trying her hardest not to cry in front of him.

“Of course, I’ll try my best,” he replies, giving her a reassuring smile.

Natalie nods, putting a hand on his shoulder and managing to smile back at him. “Thank you.” And with that said, her hand leaves his shoulder gently as she turns on her heels and walks away.

Jordan waits until Lydia’s mother disappears around the corner, before he exhales deeply and finally opens the door. He finds Lydia sitting in her bed, staring out the window. Her gaze doesn’t even flicker to Jordan as he walks in, closing the door behind him. “Hey,” he says softly. “How are you feeling?”

She says nothing.

He expected that. It was either no reaction or aggressive behavior, and part of Jordan was wishing that it was the latter, because at least then she would talk to him, even if it meant telling him to leave. Because Jordan’s realized that out of everyone, out of Kira, Malia, and even her own mother, Lydia treats _him_ differently. And he doesn’t know how to feel about it.

Jordan takes a seat next to her, but maintains his distance, as he notices how the tray of food beside her has gone untouched. “Lydia, it’s okay if you’re not going to talk to me, but can you, _please_ , eat something?”

Lydia finally looks at him, but there’s no emotion in her eyes as she stares at him, and it makes a shiver run down Jordan’s spine because he misses the way her eyes and smile would brighten up the room like before. “ _Why do you care?_ ” Her voice comes out tiny, but her tone is sharp and cutting edge. “I’m dying, Jordan. I accepted it. Now just let me go in peace.”

“ _No,_ Lydia, that’s not accepting it,” Jordan argues desperately, “that’s _giving up_. And you’re better than that. I know it.”

“I’m not,” she says a little louder this time, a little more sadly. “I’m not better. I’m a horrible person, I yelled at Malia, I yelled at Kira, I yelled at my own mother for _god’s sake_ , I’m not better!”

“That’s not you, Lydia,” he says, emphasizing every word and moving closer to her until he finds himself gently cupping her face, so that she’s staring him right in the eyes. “That’s not you. The horrible person is the cancer that’s making you do all this. And everyone knows it. Kira knows it, Malia knows it, your mother knows it, _I know it_. And we want to help you get through this, so don’t push us away, please.” It’s only when Jordan finishes talking that he realizes how _close_ he really is to her, practically getting into her personal space. He slides his hands away from her face, and moves back to where he was sitting, his jaw twitching as he glances up at her. She’s still staring at him. “I’m sorry…,” he apologizes.

“No, I should be the one that’s sorry,” Lydia says softly, her gaze falling to her hands. “It’s just..too much for me to handle. It makes me angry with myself, because...because I feel _weak_. I don’t feel like doing anything anymore, and I honestly hate it.”

Jordan watches her as she says all of this, watches as she lets it all out, like she did before on Valentine’s day. “Hey…,” he whispers, his hand finding hers and their fingers twining. When she doesn’t tense up or pull away from his touch, Jordan continues, “Sometimes you want to get up and go out and do the things you like to do, and that’s okay. But there’s also sometimes where you just want to hide away from the world and stay in bed all day and cry, and that’s _perfectly okay_ too. What matters is that you take care of yourself no matter what kind of day you’re having. Remember what you told me? Live in the moment, die in the moment, but most importantly, take it all _one day at a time._ ”

And finally, _finally_ , Lydia smiles. It’s a small smile but It makes Jordan’s heart beat a little faster, whenever he sees that smile. “You must have took some really good sensitivity training,” she jokes, lightheartedly.

Jordan smiles. “I like to think I just know the right thing to say,” he hums and then the horrible thought crosses his head, _god am I flirting?!_ But it’s quickly pushed away when he hears Lydia laugh softly, something he hasn’t heard in a long time either, and it feels refreshing to his ears. And before he can think twice, he sighs, “God, I missed your laugh.” It’s too late to take anything back, because it’s out there in the open and Jordan’s eyes widen when he realizes what he just said. “Oh god, I just said that out loud didn’t I?”

Lydia blushes but she’s smirking too. “Are you sure you don’t have any luck with the ladies, _deputy?_ ”

It’s Jordan’s turn to blush as he looks away, his eyes catching the tray of food again. He quickly changes the subject, “Hey. You have to eat something.”

The strawberry blonde crinkles her nose as Jordan picks up the tray which has a bowl of soup, probably cold by now, but instead of placing it in front of her, he brings a spoonful of the soup to her lips and she looks at him wide eyed. “The last time I was fed was when I was _four_.”

Jordan smiles. “If you’re not too old to have someone read to you, you’re definitely not too old to have someone feed you. And besides, knowing you, you’re probably not going to eat anything by yourself.”

Lydia gives him another look, but knowing that he’s telling the truth, she sighs and says, “Yeah, okay, fine. But just this one time.”

And so, Jordan feeds her and Lydia actually eats for once, without complaint, while the deputy tells her the story of how Malia got pissed at him because she got a parking ticket the other day, that he _didn’t_  even give her, yet she got mad at him anyways. This makes Lydia laugh, soup dribbling down her chin, which then makes Jordan laugh, and for once, things are okay.

 

**

 

February passes by quickly, and March comes and goes at its own pace, while Jordan and Lydia not only manage to finish the next two Harry Potter books, much to Jordan’s surprise, but also start to get much closer, especially after what happened. It’s only when April storms in with the rainy season that the deputy starts to realize something, that might have become quite obvious to the others, and by others he means, Malia and Kira.

Jordan’s falling for Lydia Martin.

“ _You got it bad_.”

Malia’s voice makes Jordan look away from Lydia, whose across the hall in her wheelchair talking to David, and glance up at the other girl. He arches an eyebrow at her.“Excuse me?”

She’s eating a king sized chocolate bar, vigorously chewing and swallowing before she slides into the seat next to him. “You know what I mean. _You like a certain strawberry blonde_.” Malia grins now and licks her lips to get rid of the leftover chocolate residue.

Jordan turns pink. “I don’t know what you’re talking--”

“Oh, please, don’t deny it,” Malia cuts in. She finishes her candy bar and tosses the wrapper into the nearest trash can. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. Like she’s the only person in the whole room. Ugh. It’s so nauseating. You should just ask her out.”

Jordan opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. He doesn’t know what to say because everything Malia said was practically the truth. He has it _bad_ and he doesn’t need Malia to tell him for him to know it, although now he has no reason to deny his feelings because he knows Malia isn’t going to let him off the hook until he does ask Lydia out. “Can I even do that?” Jordan finally asks, because Lydia is after all, _a patient_. It’s not like he could just take her out on a date, and now that he thinks about it, in the last three months he can’t even remember Lydia ever leaving the hospital grounds.

“Of course you can,” Malia says, making it sound easy. “Just leave it to me and Kira.”

“Y-You’re going to help me?” Jordan asks, flabbergasted.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she clarifies with a roll of her eyes. “I’m helping _Lydia_ because if she’s happy with a naive deputy, then good for her.”

“ _I am not naive_ ,” Jordan argues with furrowed eyebrows. “And how can you be so sure she likes me?”

Malia smirks at him. “Trust me, I can definitely tell.” And before Jordan can say anything else to her, another nurse peeks around the corner and calls Malia over to come clean up a mess one of the kids from pediatrics made. Malia frowns and sighs before getting up and walking off, but she gives one last glance to Jordan over her shoulder, mouthing quite noticeably, _Ask her out!_

Jordan blushes again, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it because Lydia comes over in her wheelchair and brings him out of his thoughts. “What were you talking to Malia about? I thought she hated you.” The strawberry blonde quirks an eyebrow at him and smiles curiously, making Jordan almost lost for words again.

“Uh, it was nothing,” he finally says, managing to smile at her but Lydia knows something’s up.

“I’ve known you for three months, deputy, I can kind of figure you when you’re hiding something,” Lydia says proudly, crossing her arms over her chest, showing that she wasn’t going to drop it without an answer.

And Jordan hears Malia’s voice echoing through his ears, constantly pestering him to _ask her out, ask her out, ask her out!_ And he probably would have, right then and there, in some completely embarrassing gesture because Lydia is the first girl in a long time to make him feel like an absolute mess. But thankfully, he doesn’t embarrass himself (not yet, atleast) because Kira steps in and takes Lydia away for red cell transfusions, which is basically her lifeline nowadays. “I expect an answer when I come back,” she says with a small smile and Jordan smiles back at her before she disappears into another room with Kira.

The red cell transfusions first began about a month prior, because of Lydia’s low red cell count--as Kira had explained to him--which was ultimately causing her weakness, tiredness, and in the sometimes rare case, shortness of breath. And in the months that have passed, it’s been difficult for Jordan to watch Lydia go through this, because in a way he’s watching her slowly start to fade, _slowly start to die._ He’s watched her become unhinged, her emotions splaying all over the place, her mentality teetering back and forth from possibly being better than before to falling deeper into the pit of depression, the fourth stage of the five stages of grief. And some days, he finds her smiling and talking to the other patients, Camden and David, or even her own mother, whose she’s on better terms with now. But then there are also days where Jordan will stumble upon her crying in bed, and anything he says won’t help because there’s _nothing_ he can say, so he just holds her and lets her cry on his shoulder. It’s the least he can do for her and at times, he wishes he could do more, because Jordan will do anything to take away Lydia’s pain for good.

Several minutes later, Kira walks out and nods at Jordan, meaning he can go see her now. The deputy walks inside slightly nervous and sees her lying on the bed peacefully, her gaze immediately traveling to him when he enters. “You feeling okay?” He asks as he takes a seat next to her. The first few times Lydia had red cell transfusions, she developed fevers, which was a common side effect of the procedure, but nevertheless painful to endure.

“Never felt better,” she says warmly and then quickly changes the subject, “so what were you going to say?”

Jordan knows there’s no way to avoid the question now, unless he runs out the door, but that’s highly an option he’s willing to consider. So he just says it. “Do you want to go out and maybe do something? With me?”

The look of surprise that crosses her face almost makes Jordan regret ever asking in the first place, but then all his doubts are cleared when a mischievous smile plays on her lips and she asks, with an arched brow, “ _Like a date?_ ”

“I-It doesn’t have to be a date, if you don’t want it to be,” Jordan quickly sputters out, jaw twitching as his cheeks grow hot.

Lydia hums thoughtfully for a few moments, but Jordan knows she’s just playing with him by prolonging the answer. He feels his palms starting to get a bit sweaty. “I like the sound of that,” she finally says, smiling wide.

For a second, Jordan almost doesn’t register her response, because he thinks it’s too good to be true so he stupidly says, “Really?”

Lydia nods, giggling. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a date, deputy.”

 

 

**

 

The date is set for the following Saturday.

Jordan doesn’t know how Malia does it, or more importantly, how she manages to convince Kira to help her, since Kira didn’t seem like the type of person who would be so lenient on letting Lydia go out on a _date_ , especiallyin the condition she’s in, no matter how much Kira might trust him.

The evening is nice, slightly chilly and the air still a bit damp from the rain earlier in the week. Jordan got off his shift just early enough to go back to his apartment and change into regular clothes, dark jeans and a simple t-shirt, before driving back to the hospital. He makes a quick stop at the florist again, picking up Lydia’s favorite flowers, and this time when the florist asks him the special occasion, Jordan can smile and say, _a date with the most brilliant girl I know._

When he leaves the florist, he passes by a few teens in the shop, the boys nicely dressed in tuxedos and strongly smelling of cheap cologne, while the girls with them are wearing their finest dresses and a little too much makeup. And as the deputy walks back to his car, he passes by a few more similarly dressed teens, making Jordan immediately think, _Oh right, it’s prom night._ He’s instantly reminded of his own high school senior prom, which was pretty much a disaster since he dropped punch all over his date’s _white_ dress. That was almost six years ago, though, and he can hardly care less about it. But then he thinks of Lydia, who’s a high school senior and was probably at one point planning this day with her best friend, deciding on what dress to wear and how to possibly do her hair, things that she would have been doing today at this very moment, if it wasn’t for the cancer. And as that realization dawns on Jordan, it makes him even more determined to make this night amazing for her.

He drives to the hospital, but he’s only barely able to take one step inside before Kira jumps out of nowhere and starts talking so fast that Jordan’s surprised she doesn’t go breathless. “ _If you’re going_ to take her out to eat, make sure she doesn’t eat anything too oily and definitely stay away from the sugary stuff, we all know what happened _last time_ , oh, and make sure she stays hydrated, and if there’s any problems, call me or Malia, I’m speed dial one and Malia is speed dial two, am I forgetting something? I’m totally forgetting something….Oh, right, she _can_ have sex, but just make sure you guys don’t do anything too vigorous and make sure you use protection and--”

“Kira!” Jordan’s just as red as Kira is, except Kira’s red because she’s been talking for more than sixty seconds nonstop and Jordan’s red because Kira thinks he’s going to have sex with Lydia, which he _isn’t._ Kira looks up at him with that nervous wide eyed expression of hers and Jordan could have easily said that _it’s just a date_ , but he knows that won’t calm Kira down because he knows how much she cares about Lydia. “I’ll make sure nothing happens to her. Okay?”

Kira nods, a tiny bit of relief filling her face. “Sorry. I sort of went overboard.”

“Don’t apologize,” Jordan tells her with a small smile. “I get it. You care about Lydia.” Kira returns a shy smile while Jordan finally glances around, looking for a familiar strawberry blonde. When he can’t find her, he frowns and turns back to Kira. “Where is she by the way?”

“Don’t get too impatient, _deputy_.”

He recognizes that tone of voice much too well now, because he can already see the expression on her face without even looking at her. But when he whips his head around to look at her, his jaw unexpectedly drops, because Lydia Martin absolutely takes his breath away. She’s not in her mint green hospital gown, and it’s the first time he’s seen Lydia wearing something else besides it. She’s glowing like a star in a white dress with what he assumes to be a floral print, the hem of the dress hitting just a tiny bit above her knees. Her hair looks brighter than he’s ever seen it, the short locks tied in a braid so it doesn’t fall in her face, but a few wispy strands still manage to escape and frame her face brilliantly.

And that’s the only way he can describe her: she’s absolutely brilliant and he knows he doesn’t deserve her.

“Close your mouth, you look ridiculous.” Malia’s comment pulls Jordan out of his thoughts as she smirks at him, while pushing Lydia in her wheelchair towards him.

Jordan blushes and closes his mouth, but only to open it again soon after, as he’d be an absolutely idiot to not compliment her. “You look amazing,” he whispers, extending the hand holding the flowers to her, his gaze mesmerized by her.

Lydia takes the flowers with a bright grin. “Thanks, you don’t look too bad either. I almost like you in regular clothes as much as I do in your uniform,” she says playfully.

“If I knew the uniform was such a turn on, I would have worn that instead,” he jokes.

“Next time,” Lydia replies with a wink.

“God, are you guys going to flirt here in the waiting room all night, or are you guys actually going to leave?” Malia pipes in, stepping between the two of them and taking the flowers away from Lydia. “Don’t worry about these, I’ll put em in your room. You just go and have fun, yeah?!”

“Not too much fun, though!” Kira adds, a nervous smile etching on her lips.

Jordan watches as Lydia rolls her eyes at the two of them before nodding and saying in a somewhat mocking voice, “ _Yes, Mom and Dad_.” He laughs as the two nurses glance at each other, Kira turning red as Malia whispers to her reassuringly, _it’s okay, I’ll be the Dad._ Lydia takes this opportunity to wheel past them and toward Jordan, glancing up at him from underneath her curled eyelashes. “I think this is our cue to leave.”

“I think you’re right,” he replies quickly, taking hold of the wheelchair handles and steering her outside to the parking lot, while Kira and Malia bicker in the background, oblivious to the fact that they already left.

Jordan helps Lydia into the passenger seat of his car, folding up the wheelchair and placing it in the trunk, before finally getting into the drivers seat and pulling out of the lot and on to the main road. They drive in silence for about ten minutes before Lydia finally breaks it, the curiosity getting the best of her. “Where are we going?”

“It’s sort of a surprise,” Jordan answers, glancing at her and giving her a half smile.

Lydia furrows her eyebrows but smiles back. “I don’t really like surprises.”

He grins. “I think you’ll like this one.”

They drive into downtown Beacon Hills, which doesn’t really make up much. There’s a few shopping places, restaurants, and a lonely movie theater situated in the corner of the street, which is exactly where they were heading. Jordan parks in the mostly empty lot and helps Lydia back into her wheelchair, pushing her up to the old looking building where bright yellow lights are flashing around the display board which show what movies are currently playing. Lydia shoots him a questioning look, “Which movie are we going to see?”

“It’s not exactly listed…,” Jordan says sheepishly and vaguely, not wanting to spoil the surprise just yet, but seeing her doubtful look, he quickly adds with a reassuring smile, “just trust me on this.”

“You’re so lucky I _do_ trust you,” Lydia says as they enter the main lobby, which is practically empty except for a few people grabbing drinks. “Because if you were someone else, I would have speed dialed Malia and she would have kicked your ass.”

Jordan chuckles. “I guess I consider myself pretty lucky then.” They get into the short line to buy popcorn and refreshments, and Jordan has to steer Lydia away from pouring too much butter on her popcorn, Kira’s words still echoing strongly through his mind like a warning. He shows the same restraint when he finds her eyeing the candy, although he finds it kind of difficult to look past her pouting lips that are slightly parted, because part of him is just willing to succumb to her and let her do whatever she wants with him and the other half of him just really wants to kiss her. Jordan manages to make such thoughts go away temporarily as they enter the semi-dark theater, which is strangely entirely empty.

Lydia frowns. “Jordan, this theater is completely empty,” she states quite obviously.

“I know,” he says as he moves the both of them toward seats in the middle of the room. “It’s actually a special screening, only V.I.Ps are allowed.”. He grins at her.

The strawberry blonde sits down next to him and arches a brow. “And who exactly are the V.I.Ps?”

Jordan smiles. “You and me of course.”

And as if on perfect cue, the rest of the lights in the theater dim and the movie starts to play. It doesn’t take long for Lydia to realize what movie it is, because as soon as Voldemort appears on screen, elder wand in hand, the strawberry blonde lets out an excited squeal. It’s the very last Harry Potter movie, _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part Two_. The Voldemort scene soon fades into the silhouette of Hogwarts with intense music playing in the background and when Jordan glances at Lydia, who looks both pleasantly surprised and shocked, he can’t help but smile. And when the strawberry blonde finally manages to unglue her gaze from the screen and look toward Jordan, she doesn’t hesitate to ask, “How did you…?!”

“Asked a little favor from the Sheriff’s son who works here,” Jordan replies easily, when in fact it wasn’t that easy to convince Stiles Stilinski to help him play a screening of _Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows Part Two_ ,and that too for only two people’s viewing pleasure. But when Jordan offered to introduce Stiles to the new detective at their police station, Derek Hale, who Jordan often found Stiles eyeing whenever he came in to give lunch to his dad, Stiles was a lot more easier to convince than before.

“And you watched all the movies?!”

He nods, “All except this one. I wanted to watch it with you.” Just a few days ago, Jordan ended up binge watching all seven movies, 1,049 minutes, nearly seventeen hours that he probably wouldn’t have gave up for anyone except Lydia Martin.

Lydia can’t stop smiling. “Okay, I change my mind. I think I’m _starting_ to like surprises now.” Jordan smiles at her words and before he can reply, Lydia leans toward him and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.” She smiles and bites her lip slightly nervous and all he can do is just stare at her, without words. It’s the last thing she says though before her attention goes back to the movie, and Jordan does the same except his attention is still on the fact that Lydia kissed him, his fingers softly brushing against his cheek where her lips touched his skin. God, he really did like her a lot.

Jordan’s sure that Lydia’s watched the movie an endless amount of times--along with owning it on Blu-ray with special features--because she knows certain lines by heart, and he hears her mumbling them at the exact same time that they’re said, while also laughing and tearing up at just the right moments, but mostly tearing up because the movie pretty much killed everyone possible. It’s almost hard for Jordan to actually focus on the movie itself because his eyes keep glancing back at Lydia, watching the various expressions cross her face as she watches, completely engrossed in the film. The only time their gazes actually lock is whenever their fingers accidentally touch while grabbing popcorn and Lydia glances at him, finding Jordan already staring at her, in which she gives him a devious smile and says, _the movie’s that way, deputy,_ to which Jordan immediately gets flustered and looks away, getting a few giggles from Lydia.

When the movie’s over, Lydia’s still a bit teary eyed from when she was sobbing over Snape’s death and Jordan comforts her as they sit in the empty theater with the credits rolling in the background. “God, I’m such a dork,” Lydia says when she finally calms down.

“An adorable one,” Jordan smiles as he helps her back into the wheelchair.

“ _I’m too much to handle_.”

“Don’t worry, I have two hands. I can handle you.”

Lydia looks up at him with narrowed eyes. “If you don’t stop, you’re gonna make me want to kiss you.”

 _I don’t mind that,_ Jordan thinks, because he didn’t realize how much he really wanted to kiss her until that very moment, but of course, he doesn’t say any of it out loud as he leads Lydia back to the car. When she’s safely in the passenger seat and he’s just about to start the car, Jordan finds the strawberry blonde staring off into the distance. When he turns to see what she’s looking at, he understands. Right in front of them, on the boardwalk near the beach, they see the flashing and colorful lights from the annual Beacon Hills County fair. Jordan had just moved into Beacon Hills a little over a year ago, so he never got the chance to actually go to it, but Lydia, who’s been living in the town all her life probably went to the fair every year. Except this year. “Do you want to go?” He asks her softly.

She looks at him slightly surprised. “I...can’t really go on any of the rides. Except maybe the Ferris Wheel.”

“Then we’ll go on the Ferris Wheel.”

Lydia gives him an appreciative smile as Jordan drives the short drive over there. When they walk into the fair, Jordan watches as a nostalgic look falls over Lydia, as she admires the colorful booths and the delicious aromas enriching her senses, along with the overall lively atmosphere. “I used to come here every year with my mom, and then my friends,” she tells him, reminiscing. And Jordan smiles sadly at her, because he realizes the sad fact that this will be the last fair she ever gets to go to. 

They make their way to the Ferris Wheel, and to their good luck, Lydia’s actually allowed to go on it. They’re seated and strapped into one of the small carriages and the overwhelming glee on Lydia’s face is almost contagious, as the Ferris Wheel finally moves, twirling them around under the starry night sky a few times before coming to a freezing stop, making the carriage that Jordan and Lydia are sitting in halt at the very top. And at first, everything is perfectly fine, that is, until Jordan feels the Ferris Wheel start to _rock_. He freaks out instantly, because Ferris Wheels are definitely not supposed to do that, but when he glances over at Lydia and sees her widely smiling _and_ the one responsible for the rocking, he sighs in some sort of relief. “So you’re one of those people?” He asks, almost humorously.

She raises an eyebrow at him, momentarily stopping. “One of what kind of people?”

“ _The people who rock the ferris wheel when they’re not supposed to_ ,” Jordan elaborates, making Lydia just grin and continue to move the carriage anyways. He frowns. “I’m pretty sure there was a sign that said not to do that.”

“You follow too many rules,” she says playfully.

Jordan snorts, “I’m a deputy, it’s practically my job to follow the rules.” When the carriage shakes a little more than usual, he frowns again. “I think you should stop.”

“Or you’ll do what, _deputy?_ ” She asks, looking at him absolutely deviously, and Jordan can tell by the tone of her voice and the way she slightly leans into him that the strawberry blonde is trying to rile him up.

Jordan swallows audibly, staring into her wide eyes. “I’ll do something...,” he says, quite pathetically.

Lydia smiles. “What are you going to do, deputy? Hm?”

And before he can even stop himself, Jordan leans in closer to her until their noses are practically touching, their breathing synchronized, before finally, the inevitable happens. Jordan kisses her. His lips press against hers in the softest way possible, his hand reaching up to cup her face gently as their lips move together under the starry night sky. And Jordan soon realizes that kissing Lydia isn’t like kissing anyone else, because kissing her means forgetting anything else even exists, as if they’re the only two people in the world right now.

And Jordan likes that feeling. He likes it a lot.

 

**

 

Lydia stays silent on the drive back to the hospital. But it’s not because she has nothing to say, it’s because she’s had one of the best days in her life after a very long time, and she’s pleasantly tired and she just wants to revel in the comfortable silence between her and Jordan. When they stop at a red light, Lydia watches as a couple crosses the street and by looking at their clothes, the strawberry blonde can tell that they just came back from prom. _That’s right,_ she thinks, _today was prom. How did I forget?_

And then she remembers: she forgot because she was too excited about her date with Jordan to think about anything else.

But she’s happy that she forgot about prom, because then she didn’t have to think about it and remember how she much she was looking forward to it at the beginning of the year. How much she couldn’t wait to go dress shopping, to wear matching corsages with her boyfriend of that time, Jackson, and have the possibility to run for prom queen. But that all shattered when she started to feel weak, to the point where no matter how much rest she still felt fatigue, and then all it took after that was for her lymph nodes to swell and red spots to appear on her skin for Lydia’s whole world to change. When the doctor diagnosed her with cancer, Lydia knew right away that nothing was going to be the same anymore. And she was right, because Jackson stopped talking to her, her friends maintained their distance from her, and Lydia’s attendance at school continued to drop and drop until she stopped going altogether because of her health.

For the first few weeks, Lydia went through chemo two to three times every week, and it was the worst time of her life. Because after each session, Lydia felt like she was dying instead of getting better, and the doctor told her that was normal. Lydia also learned other things that would become normal. Like losing your hair. First, her hair only fell in tiny strands whenever she took a shower, but as the chemo doses grew stronger, her hair started falling off in larger and larger patches, not just in the shower but whenever she brushed it or even ran her hand through it to get it out of her face, and this continued until it was practically all gone. Lydia still remembers all the times where she would lock herself in the bathroom because of it, staring at her reflection in the mirror, crying, because she couldn’t even recognize herself anymore.

When she wasn’t showing any improvements after the first phase, she went through post-remission, which was technically just more doses of stronger chemo. There was the option of stem cell transplants, but it was risky, because there was the possibility of death. So, Lydia went with chemo and continued to lock herself in the bathroom more often, crying until her eyes were too red and dry for anymore tears.

She went through hell and back, but it was of no use because four months later, Lydia finds out there’s no hope. And entering into the new year, a time where people were going out and celebrating, Lydia spends it in the hospital, where she finds out she’s dying. She remembers how unreal it felt, because _dying_ was the last thing on her list of things to worry about. She still had to get accepted to Harvard and solve one of the world’s most impossible math problems. She still had to win a Field’s medal for her potential work.

Lydia had her whole life ahead of her. She remembers thinking, _I can’t die. I can’t die yet._

“Lydia? Are you okay?”

Jordan’s words pull Lydia out of her thoughts and it’s only then when she realizes that she’s crying. She looks over at Jordan, who’s staring at her worriedly now, and she can’t help but smile. Her tears are because of her past, but now, when she looks at Jordan, she feels unbelievably happy, an emotion she hasn’t felt for so long. “I’m fine,” she reassures him as she wipes away the stray tears. “I...just remembered that today was prom.” The lie comes out so easily from her, but she’s not surprised because she’s so used to lying nowadays. The nurses would ask her, _how are you feeling?_ , and even though she felt like just being left alone to rot and die, she would always smile and say, _I’m feeling okay._ “I mean,” she continues, “I had an amazing day today. With you. It was actually one of the best days I’ve had in a long time.” This time, she’s not lying.

Jordan smiles at her and Lydia feels something inside her flutter. _Her heart_. When was the last time her heart felt like that? She doesn’t remember.  “I had an amazing day too, with you,” he says, repeating her words, and then adding with a slight frown, “...I’m sorry you couldn’t go to prom though.”

Lydia smiles though. “It’s okay. Today made up for any old prom,” she says, and that makes Jordan smile even wider. She watches as his eyes glance toward the time, the green numbers glowing and displaying that it’s barely ten p.m.

“You know, we could still relive a little bit of prom,” he suddenly says, his brilliant green eyes sparkling.

Lydia raises a brow at him curiously, “What do you mean?”

“You’ll find out.” Jordan grins at her and opens the door, stepping out of the car. Lydia watches him with profound interest as he makes his way around to the passenger side, opening the door and then offering his hand for her to take.

Lydia takes his hand without hesitation, allowing him to lead her out of the car so that they’re standing in the empty hospital lot, the slightly cool breeze blowing softly at the hem of Lydia’s dress. “Is this another surprise?” She asks with a smirk.

“You could consider it that,” he hums.

Lydia arches another appreciative eyebrow at him. “Two surprises in one night? You’re on a roll, deputy.”

Jordan laughs and Lydia feels his hand gently rest on her waist, pulling her closer to him. Lydia’s breath slightly hitches from the sudden gesture, but she doesn’t tense up. Her body actually relaxes against his as his other free hand intertwines with hers, before they start swaying together, dancing, while Jordan hums some sort of relaxing tune. And it feels nice, as Lydia rests her head against his chest, reveling in his warmth and minty scent, because even though it’s not prom, she realizes it’s much better than it. But Lydia also realizes something else too.

And that is, being with Jordan makes her, a terminal leukemia patient, feel like the happiest girl alive.

 

 

**

 

For the rest of the night, Lydia can’t sleep. It’s almost impossible for her to sink into slumber and it surprises her how awake she feels, because usually after a day like today she’d feel totally slumped. But for some reason—a reason she might just know—she’s not. Instead, Lydia gets up from her hospital bed and slowly stands on to her feet. She immediately reaches for her wheelchair but then stops, thinking that it’s been a while since she’s walked freely. And so, using the wall for support, Lydia carefully walks out of her room and then glances around, looking for Malia or Kira. The two girls had pestered her for details about what happened on the date, but she had told them that she’d spill everything tomorrow, using the excuse that she was too tired, when really she just wanted to keep the night to herself, at least, until morning came. But now, being restless, the strawberry blonde doesn’t mind telling them a few hours before the new day dawns on them.

Lydia walks down the hall, taking her time, a smile on her face as she thinks over the night’s events again. After the ridiculous dancing that wasn’t quite dancing in the hospital parking lot, Jordan took her back upstairs to her room, and even though she really wanted to kiss him again, she didn’t. But she wishes she did. As Lydia’s about to round the corner of the hallway, she stops abruptly and just in time, because she hears Malia’s and Kira’s voices just on the other side. She hears them talking about _her_. Without thinking twice, Lydia presses herself against the wall, hiding, and eavesdrops in on their conversation.

“So…do you think their date went well?” Malia asks.

“I think so,” Kira replies. “I mean, she looked pretty happy when she came back.”

“Do you think they kissed?”

Lydia imagines Kira lowering her gaze and blushing. Even if the conversation isn’t about her own personal life, Kira is still embarrassed talking about other people’s personal lives. “I think so?”

They fall into silence for a few minutes and all Lydia can hear is the crinkling of wrappers and one of them crunching on potato chips. Malia starts up again, her mouth partially full with what Lydia assumes chips, “Dyo ou hink ts orth t?”

“What?”

“ _Do you think it’s worth it?_ ”

“What do you mean?”

 Malia sighs loudly. “I mean…Do you think it’s worth falling in love with someone who, you know, can’t stay with you.”

Another silence fills the air between the three and Lydia feels something inside her slowly start to break, crumble. Her heart. _It’s my heart_. When Kira doesn’t respond to Malia’s question, Malia continues, “I mean, if you were in love with me—“

“ _What?_ ”

“Gosh, calm down Kira, it’s just an example,” Malia reassures her before continuing, “ _If you_ were in love with me and knew I was dying and knew there was no way in hell that I would survive, would you still want to be with me? Would you still stay with me till the very end? Even though you know my death will destroy you?”

Lydia feels herself stagger, her knees almost giving underneath her, but she grips the wall and stays standing. Her eyes are already wet with tears and she immediately places a hand over her mouth, not trusting herself that she can hold it all in.

“Malia…”

“Just answer the question, Kira. Would you or would you not stay with me till the end?”

Malia’s answer comes out in a tiny voice, so tiny that Lydia almost didn’t hear it. “I would stay with you,” she says, her voice choking and it doesn’t take long before she hears quiet sobbing noises. Kira’s crying.

“Aw, fuck, don’t cry Kira, _I’m not dying_. I’m right here! I’m right here,” Malia continues to repeat those last three words and when Lydia peeks slightly around the corner, she finds Malia hugging Kira, stroking her hair softly. Lydia doesn’t look for long because it’s not a scene for her to see.

She steps back, surprised that she can still walk as she slowly heads back to her room, an overwhelming feeling rushing through her. How could she have been so selfish? Thinking that she, out of all people, could have a happy ending? No, no. There’s no such thing as happy endings in her story, and even if there was, Lydia knows she couldn’t just take it and run, because her happiness means destroying someone else’s happiness.

And she couldn’t do that. No, not to the one person she cares about the most.

 

 

**

 

Jordan can’t seem to stop smiling.

And according to the other officers at the police department, it’s getting kind of annoying. But what can he do? He’s unbelievably happy and even if he tried to frown, his facial muscles wouldn’t allow it. And who’s the cause of it all?

Lydia Martin, of course.

Even though they only had their first date a few nights ago, Jordan feels like he’s been in love with Lydia Martin ever since day one. That feeling that he would get back then, when he first met her, when a part of his mind would tell him to stay with her, to never let go of her, he realizes now that it’s because he was in love with her. He just didn’t know it back then. But now? Now he’s sure.

And as he clocks out at nine p.m. sharp, walking out into the cool evening, Jordan decides that he’s going to tell her. Tonight? Maybe not tonight, but soon. _Very soon._

Jordan drives the short distance from the police station to the hospital, and when he walks inside he’s sort of grateful that he doesn’t see Malia or Kira anywhere, because he knows that they’re most likely going to start teasing him, especially Malia, and the deputy will have no other choice but to blush madly. So he escapes that possible faith by quickly making his way to the third floor. Lydia’s door is slightly open, allowing Jordan to make his silent entry, where he finds her lying in bed, vigorously looking over neon flashcards, which he assumes is her way of studying for a class. There’s exactly a little over a month left until graduation, so Jordan’s not surprised to see her so aggressively studying. When she notices his presence, her eyes dart up from the flashcards towards him and Jordan notices a startled expression cross her features. “Oh, hi,” she says softly.

“Hey,” he greets back with a smile. “Sorry, did I come at a wrong time?”

“No, no,” she reassures him as she puts the flashcards away, giving him her full attention. Jordan notices the way she nervously fiddles with her thumbs. “Actually…I needed to talk to you.”

“Okay, I’m all ears.” Jordan sits down next to her, his gaze never leaving her.

“It’s about what happened the other night…,” Lydia starts slowly, and Jordan assumes she’s talking about their date. She pauses momentarily, as if to find the right words, before continuing, “When we kissed…it shouldn’t have happened.”

Jordan immediately cuts in, “Oh, I know, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have kissed you so suddenly like that—“

“No, Jordan, you don’t understand. _We shouldn’t have kissed at all_. We shouldn’t have gone on that date in the first place,” Lydia says, her lips pressing together in a thin line. Jordan stares at her, speechless. And then, Lydia lets out a forceful sort of laugh and it makes something in him break. “I can’t believe,” she starts again, “that I actually thought that this could work, that _we_ could work…”

“Lydia….But we can work,” he reaches out to touch her face, like he did when he kissed her, but Lydia pulls back, stopping him from doing so.

“No, we can’t,” she emphasizes sharply, her words cutting through him painfully. “It’s the best for the both of us if we don’t see each other anymore.” Staring at her, Jordan can see that she’s trying her best to hold back tears, trying her best to fight the fact that she looks like she’s going to break down any second.

And while she tries her best not to crumble, Jordan can feel himself breaking into small fragments. His throat feels choked and his hands are slightly trembling and his words come out shaky, not steely at all, “….You don’t mean that….”

“Actually, I do,” she says coldly, not at all hesitating with her answer.

That’s when he says it. It’s an extremely selfish thing to do, he knows it, but he does it anyways because if there’s one chance he has to actually say it out loud, it’s now. “I’m in love with you, Lydia.”

Lydia’s eyes go wide at his sudden declaration and he swears that for a moment, her expression softens. But whether it does or doesn’t, her words are still cutting edge. “No, you don’t,” she says, and Jordan wonders if her saying that hurts him her more than it hurts him. “You _don’t_ love me, you just think you do, because I’m this fragile, delicate thing that you feel you need to take care of, but really you _don’t_ have to, because that’s not love—“

Jordan takes her hand, twining their fingers, stopping her from saying anymore because her eyes are welled with tears and it hurts him to see her like this. She doesn’t pull away from him. “I didn’t fall in love with you because you’re fragile or delicate,” he whispers to her and then smiles sadly, “because if you haven’t noticed, fragile and delicate are the last things I can use to describe you.” Lydia tries her best not to smile at his comment, but it breaks through anyways. “I fell in love with you because for the first time, I wanted to make someone a permanent part of my life.”

The strawberry blonde looks at him, the smile on her lips not as warm and inviting as it was a few moments ago. “That’s the problem,” she finally speaks, removing her hand from his. “I can’t be a permanent part of anyone’s life.”

Jordan doesn’t say anything.

Lydia finishes it. “Please go. I don’t want to see you again.”

 

 

**

 

April fades away, along with the rain, and the sun starts to brighten the skies as May comes in. But Jordan doesn’t notice the sun or the clear weather. In fact, he doesn’t even know where the month goes, because sooner or later, it’s May 19th and it’s been one full month since the last time Jordan saw Lydia. It surprises him that he’s been able to go through a whole month without her, even though technically he still calls up Kira and Malia frequently to make sure she’s doing okay, but even though Jordan might be going through the days better than most lovesick and heartbroken people, he doesn’t want to live like this. He wants to see her, talk to her, spend time with her, kiss her, and most importantly, _stay with her_.

But he can’t, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

“You need to forget about her,” Stiles tells him one day when he’s at the station, dropping off dinner for his dad, when really Jordan knows that he’s just there to check out his co-worker, and new boyfriend due to Jordan’s help, Derek Hale. Jordan looks at the Sheriff’s son, finding his eyes glancing between him and Derek, before finally settling on him again. “Try going on some dates.”

“I rather not,” Jordan says quickly, going back to his work and hoping Stiles would leave him alone, but then again, it’s _Stiles_.

“Look, I’m going out with Derek to a bar tonight, why don’t you come with us? We can try hooking you up with someone?” Stiles suggests, making an annoyed sigh escape Jordan. The idea did not appeal to him at all. Stiles narrows his eyes, “And you know I don’t take no for an answer! _You’re going._ ”

And that’s how it starts, Stiles’ Operation: Forget Lydia Martin, which as Jordan predicted ahead of time, fails miserably. Jordan ends up going out with a few girls—unsurprisingly, they all turn out to be strawberry blondes—but nothing becomes of those dates. A few of the girls hint of going back to his place or their place at the end of the night, and if he were any other guy, he might have just caved and said yes, but Jordan isn’t like other guys. He knows that he could never be with another girl, even if it’s just for sex, if his mind and heart belong to another.

And his mind and heart definitely belong to Lydia Martin, no doubt about it.

So when he collects the mail on that one Saturday morning and finds an invitation along with a ticket to Lydia Martin’s graduation ceremony, his heart skips a beat and his mind goes frantic as he calls up Malia right then and there.

She answers, “Jordan.”

“I need to talk to her.”

“She doesn’t want to see you, you know that.”

“I know, but I can at least talk to her? Over the phone?” Jordan asks quickly, getting a long pause from Malia on the other side of the line.

“I guess that works….,” she says slowly. “Gimme a sec.”

A few moments later, Jordan hears some shuffling over the phone, but then finally he hears her voice. “ _Hello?_ ”

He almost doesn’t say anything, his breath hitching as he realizes that this is the first thing he’s heard her say something to him in about a month’s time. It’s only when Lydia says hello again does Jordan muster up the words to finally speak. “Hi, Lydia.” Right after his words, he hears shuffling again and then her speaking to who he assumes is Malia, _you didn’t tell me it was him?!_

She comes back to the receiver and surprises him by not hanging up. “What do you want?”

“I just wanted to say congrats,” he says softly, “on getting to graduate.”

“How do you know I’m graduating?”

It’s only then that Jordan realizes that Lydia didn’t send the invitation and ticket. He feels kind of stupid for even thinking that was even an option. Now that he knows she didn’t send it, there’s only one other person who could have done it. Lydia’s mother. “Your mother must have sent me an invitation and ticket.”

“Oh.”

There’s an abnormally long silence then, until Jordan finally asks, “Do you want me to come? I won’t go if you don’t want me to.”

She surprises him again with her answer. “You can come if you want….I don’t really care.”

“But you do care. I know you do,” he whispers, not really intending for her to hear it, but she does because right after he says it, the line goes dead.

She hung up on him. And for some reason, Jordan takes that as an answer for him to go.

 

 

**

 

The weeks pass by quickly until there’s exactly three days until Lydia’s graduation. Jordan’s working a late shift at the station that Monday night, and besides him and another deputy, the place is pretty empty and there’s a lack of any action besides the frequent calls for noise complaints from recently graduated teens partying. At around midnight, Jordan’s just about ready to clock out when the phone rings and the other deputy picks it up. His gruff voice echoes through the room, “Hello?” A few moments later, the other deputy makes a confused expression, “Wait, hold on lady, I can’t understand what you’re saying, you’re breaking up—“

“Give me the phone,” Jordan says, extending his hand out.

The deputy looks at him, shrugs, and then hands him the phone, walking away after while mumbling, _the craziest people call this place_. Jordan rolls his eyes and ignores him, speaking into the receiver. “Hello?”

“Oh my god—he’s---going—to—“ The line goes fuzzy and Jordan has to strain his ears to try to hear the person who’s speaking.

“Hello?” He repeats. “Who’s _he?_ What’s he _going_ to do?”

More shuffling, but Jordan stays on the line, determined. “Hello? Miss? Are you here? Stay with me.” And then Jordan hears it, loud and clear even though it’s just a whisper through the static, _he’s going to jump._

Jordan’s heart races as he’s reminded of what happened a year ago. “What’s the location, miss?” He immediately asks. She tells him and before he hangs up, he adds, “I’ll be there right away. _Thank you._ ”

Not telling the other deputy what the situation is, Jordan grabs his officer jacket and rushes out of the station, quickly heading to his police cruiser and driving out of the lot. He defies all lawful speed limits—because he can—by slamming on the gas and speeding down the road towards the city bridge. Since it’s close to midnight, the streets are empty and Jordan parks on the side of the bridge easily before he runs down to the middle of it, where he finds a tall familiar looking boy standing on the other side of the railing, overlooking the dark waters of the river that passed through before immersing into the ocean. It’s only when Jordan cautiously takes a few steps forward does he realize that the boy looks familiar because he knows who it is. He furrows his eyebrows and calls out his name, “Isaac?”

It’s Isaac alright, with his tall lanky figure, curly brown hair, and those empty eyes that Jordan remembers seeing back at the hospital sometimes. “How do you know my name?” Isaac asks. His tone of voice is steely and Jordan notices how tightly his fingers grip the railing.

The deputy takes a few steps closer. “I see you at the hospital sometimes visiting your brother,” he answers calmly. “How is he?” He tries his best to redirect the conversation, because although Jordan’s been through quite an ample of sensitivity training, no sort of training could have prepared him for this.

“I know what you’re doing,” Isaac says, “I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t say you were,” Jordan replies. “I just wanted to know how your brother is doing.”

“He’s….still in a fucking coma,” the boy replies through clenched teeth. “And you know what I just realized? He’s not going to wake up. I don’t even know why I bothered keeping up all that hope for a whole year. There is no hope. There never is. I should have killed myself a long time ago.” His fingers start to loosen around the railing and Jordan immediately steps forward again.

“It’s not your fault.” he says, calmly. “You can’t blame yourself.”

This time Isaac laughs, and it’s a chilling laughter that makes a shiver run down Jordan’s spine. “Not my fault? What do you even know about me anyways? You don’t know anything. You don’t know how much my father hates me, _hits me_ , telling me I’m good for nothing, because guess what? He’s right. I’m good for nothing. I can’t help my brother and I can’t stop my father and I can’t deal with everything anymore…. _I just can’t_ …”

“You can’t blame yourself for what your father does to you,” Jordan says, his gaze intensely settled on where Isaac’s fingers are gripping the railing. “And you can’t blame yourself for what happened to your brother. You have to accept it, but you don’t have to live with it. There are people that can help you. _I can help you_ , Isaac, but only if you let me.”

“No one can help me,” Isaac says, his voice a whisper against the wind. “I can only help myself.”

Jordan feels himself losing his options. “And you think killing yourself is going to really help you?” That captures Isaac’s attention fast, because his eyes go wide with surprise. “Help anyone? Is it going to help your brother? Is it going to help you get away from your father and start your life all over again?” Isaac doesn’t say anything. “You’re so young, Isaac. You have a lot of potential ahead of you.” For some reason, he’s reminded of Lydia. “And you have every right to not listen to me, I know. But each day means a new twenty-four hours. Each day means everything’s possible again. You live in the moment, you die in the moment, but most importantly, you take it all one day at a time. And I know that at this time, I’m supposed to be telling you to please come back on the other side of the bridge, to please not jump, but I don’t have control over your life. That’s all you.”

And for a minute, Jordan actually thinks he’s going to let go. It makes him sprint forward, but it’s only a false alarm because Isaac doesn’t jump. Jordan lets out a sigh of relief and he swears he hears Isaac snicker. “I remember you now,” he finally says.

Jordan arches an eyebrow. “You do?”

Isaac nods. And then in one smooth motion, he jumps over the railing so that he’s safely on the other side with Jordan. It’s only then that Jordan realizes how much taller the teen is compared to him. “You used to come and visit Lydia,” Isaac says, stuffing his hands into his pockets and the fact that he says _used to_ notifies Jordan that he’s aware that he doesn’t come and visit anymore.

“Yeah.” He says quickly, looking away.

“Why don’t you visit her anymore?”

Jordan narrows his eyes at him. Was he not just contemplating on jumping off a bridge a few moments ago? How did things suddenly redirect to him? “That’s really none of your business,” he tells him.

“Whether I lived or died was none of your business either,” Isaac replies with a smirk.

“I’m a cop, if you forgot.”

“And I’m trying to help you.”

“I don’t think you’re in any ability to help anyone right now,” Jordan says seriously. “Get in the car. I’ll get you some coffee and drive you….” He pauses, remembering the situation with his father. “Do you have a friend you can stay with tonight?”

Isaac nods. “I guess I can go to Scott’s house.”

Jordan doesn’t know who Scott is, but he nods and places a gentle hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “I’ll…drive you there.”

When they reach the designated location of Isaac’s friend’s house, Jordan stops in front of the driveway and glances over at Isaac. “Here,” he says, passing him a piece of paper.

“What’s this?” Isaac asks.

“My number.”

“I’m not that type of guy, officer,” Isaac jokes with another grin.

Jordan groans and rolls his eyes. “I mean, if you have ever get yourself into another situation, you can call me. I’ll help you.”

Isaac stares at him for a moment before finally smiling. “Thanks. I…appreciate it.” He’s about to step out of the car, when Jordan stops him.

“Wait, can I ask you something?”

“Depends,” Isaac says, sitting back down again. “Do you want a sarcastic answer or a real one?”

Jordan snorts, “A real answer would be nice.”

“Shoot.”

“Why…do they die so young?” Jordan doesn’t know why he asks it, or why he even asks Isaac, someone he barely knows, but he does it.

A smile plays on Isaac’s thin lips and a small chuckle escapes from him. “Because that’s just how life is.” He opens the door again and steps out this time, glancing at Jordan one last time. “Goodnight, officer.”

 

 

**

 

Being at Beacon Hills high school for any other reason besides for his job makes Jordan feel strangely old, while also bringing back memories for when he was in high school himself. But he manages to push those horrible memories aside because today he’s here for one person and one person only.  
  
He walks across the parking lot and to the stadium where parents are filling up the stands already, and it doesn’t take long for him to find Lydia’s mother because she practically screams his name from the other side of the bleachers, making him blush profoundly as he awkwardly makes his way past the crowd of people to her. She’s sitting next to Sheriff Stilinski, who’s here for his son, and Melissa Mccall, who he only recognizes because he’s been to the hospital a few too many times to get fixed up by her after he gets hurt on the job. Jordan takes a seat next to Natalie Martin and it doesn’t take long before the ceremony starts.

Even though Jordan graduated a while back, everything still seems to be conducted in the same manner. The principle speaks first, and then the valedictorian, and _then_ the salutatorian, and it really shouldn’t have surprised Jordan when the salutatorian came up on stage, but it did, because it’s Lydia Martin. She walks up on stage, slowly and carefully, looking absolutely brilliant in that dark blue graduation gown with its matching cap and tassel. And Jordan can just imagine an administrator telling her that she can use a wheelchair if she wants to, to which Lydia would have smiled and replied, _no thanks_. He watches as she stands in front of the podium, and she isn’t wearing heels so she looks tiny, but nevertheless fierce.

She taps the microphone twice to make sure it’s working and then finally speaks, her voice echoing through the stands, “I’m going to try and make this short and sweet, because If I talk too much I’ll just end up getting breathless, and you guys will have to watch me turn into a panting mess, and that’ll just be awkward.” Laughter echoes from the prospective graduates and even Lydia laughs a little, her warm laughter echoing through the mic and making Jordan smile, because he hasn’t heard it for so long. When the laughter dies down, she begins speaking again. “I’ve been through a lot in the past year. And because of it, I technically can’t talk about all the great things that happened in this final year, because unlike my fellow peers, I didn’t experience them. I missed at least three fourths of the regular school year, meaning I missed the big things, such as my last homecoming and prom and senior day, but more than that, I missed the small things. I missed being able to spend this last year with my friends, I missed going to classes, especially my calculus class, yes I’m one of the odd balls that actually likes math--” More laughter resounds through the crowd, “--but most importantly, I didn’t really get to be a senior. And that’s because for the past year or so, I’ve had cancer. Well, I still have cancer, technically.” A heavy silence sits in the audience.  
  
Lydia clears her throat and continues, “And It’s been very difficult, so difficult that I can’t even put it in words. I feel weak, I’ve lost weight, I’ve lost my hair, but it’s not something that just affects your physically, it also affects you mentally. I went through so many different emotions, anxiety, depression, anger, guilt, and every part of me just wanted to curl up and die. But the thing that hurt me the post, the thing that I felt the most pain from, was when I started to push away the very people that wanted to help me get through this.” She pauses and even though Jordan knows it’s impossible, he wonders if she knows that he’s here. “And I guess what I’m trying to say is that sometimes we come to such difficult points in our lives that we start pushing away the very people that want to help us get through these tough times. And what I want to say is, please, please don’t do that. Don’t push people away. Let them in. Let them comfort you, let them listen to your problems, _let them care for you_. You don’t have to go through it alone and you don’t have to go through it all at once, because you have to take it all one day at a time. I hope that’s something we can all remember as we move on from this part of our lives to the next. And of course, lastly,--” She smiles wide, “Class of 2014, we did it!”  
  
There’s an explosion of applause that erupts from everyone in the bleachers, along with the graduates sitting out on the field. Jordan finds himself standing up and clapping, along with Lydia’s mother, who ends up cheering and screaming quite loudly, _that’s my baby girl!_ And Jordan’s sure that along with every other parent in the crowd, Lydia definitely heard her too. After her speech, the ceremony begins as the names of students start to be called out, followed up by the insane screeching of parents or family members nearby. And throughout the duration of the ceremony, Jordan thinks that it’s practically a competition to see which family screams the loudest for their child. The winner?  
  
Natalie Martin, of course.  
  
When Lydia’s name is called out, the older woman somehow manages to get Melissa Mccall, Sheriff Stilinski, and Jordan (who was already cheering in the first place) to scream so loud that the deputy’s sure they broke a few eardrums of the parents around them. They do the same for Melissa’s son, who Jordan learns is named Scott Mccall, making him wonder whether he’s the same Scott that Isaac is friends with, and when Stiles’ finally gets up on stage to receive his diploma, everyone’s voices are pretty much gone except for Natalie’s, who still manages to scream from the very top of her lungs.  
  
By the end of the ceremony, she unsurprisingly loses her voice.  
  
Everyone shuffles out toward the field after the graduates throw their caps in the air, many of them somehow losing them in the process. Jordan ends up getting separated from the other parents, making him wander aimlessly through a sea of similarly dressed students looking for their parents and similarly lost looking parents searching for their child. And just when he thinks he’s definitely not going to be able to find anyone anymore and that it might be better just to head back to the car, good luck favors him as he ends up bumping into a familiar strawberry blonde. Lydia.  
  
They stare at eachother with wide eyes for a few moments, before Jordan finally breaks the silence. “Um, congrats!” Jordan says, speaking louder than usual so that he can be heard over the hundreds of other people talking around him.  
  
“Thanks!” Lydia shouts back and then she says something that Jordan doesn’t hear.  
  
He furrows his eyebrows. “What?”  
  
The strawberry blonde rolls her eyes, a gesture that Jordan missed for far too long, and then grabs his hand and starts dragging him to a much more quiet and secluded place where they can speak without having to yell at one another. “I’m surprised you’re here,” she says in a normal voice as soon as they’re alone, a small smile crossing her features.  
  
Jordan can’t help but give her a similar smile back. “Honestly, I don’t think I would have missed it for the world.”  
  
Her smile turns wider at his comment and it’s only when he feels a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach does he realize how much he’s missed that smile. “Isaac told me that you helped him the other day,” she surprises him by saying.  
  
Jordan’s eyes slightly widen. “It...anyone would have done the same thing,” he says quite modestly.  
  
Lydia shakes her head, “No, no they wouldn’t. And Isaac told me everything you said to him. How you shouldn’t push the people who are trying to help you the most away. And you know what? He’s doing better now. He’s going to stay with some friends of his instead of father. He told me, he’s going to do something better with himself, because he realizes he has that potential to do so.”  
  
Jordan smiles upon hearing that, because he’s genuinely happy for the kid.  
  
The strawberry blonde continues, a tinge of anger in her tone, “And I feel so stupid, because I was doing the exact opposite of what I should have been doing, I was pushing _you_ away, and I’m really sorry for everything I said--”  
  
“No, don’t apologize, please,” Jordan says, cutting her off before she can finish, his hand finding hers and letting their fingers intertwine.  
  
Lydia doesn’t pull away. Instead, she stares at their hands intertwined and then looks back at him, smiling. “I have to though,” Lydia insists. “Because I said all those horrible things to you and acted like  a total asshole and—“ She pauses abruptly when Jordan  suddenly leans in closer to her, placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head. She blinks up at him. “What...was that for?”  
  
“That was for putting me before yourself,” Jordan says slowly while smiling. “Because I know why you said it.” At first, when Lydia had told Jordan that she didn’t want to see him again, he didn’t quite understand why. He thought maybe she didn’t feel the same way as him, but he knew that couldn’t be it. It was only when he had confronted Isaac the other day and heard Lydia’s speech today did he realize that she was pushing him away because she didn’t want to hurt him. She was dying, and she didn’t want to have him go through all that pain after she left. “I know why you told me you never wanted to see me again,” he continues, “Because you didn’t want to hurt me in the long term. And I appreciate that, I really do, but the thing is Lydia, it  hurts _so much more_ when I’m not with you. Everything feels pointless when I don’t see you, when I don’t hear you laugh, when I don’t  see your smile, when I don’t hear you talk about Harry Potter like the absolute cute nerd you are,” he watches as her lip quivered and tears start to well in her eyes, “I want to be there with you until the very end, so please, _let me stay with you_.”  
  
The tears start to fall from Lydia’s eyes, and instead of holding them in, she lets them fall, because it doesn’t make much of a difference  if she cries right now since almost everyone around them is already crying. She smiles at him through her tears, which Jordan wipes away gently as they stream down her cheeks. “Okay, _okay_ ,” she whispers over and over again once she composes herself, and Jordan pulls her into a hug, his fingers reaching up to caress her hair as she buries her face into his chest. Jordan stands there, holding her like that, and if it were up to him he probably wouldn’t have ever let go, but then he sees Lydia’s mother come into view along with the Sheriff and he has to let go.  
  
“Lydia! I am so proud of you sweetheart!” Natalie pulls her daughter into a hug as soon as Jordan lets go of her, and he watches the heartfelt scene with a smile. They start to take pictures and Natalie dotes over Lydia, making sure she isn’t feeling too weak or tired, to which the younger strawberry blonde has to reassure that she’s just fine.  
Jordan eavesdrops and hears Natalie telling Lydia that they were planning on going out to eat with the others, and Jordan, thinking that he can catch up with Lydia later and not wanting to be a bother, turns to quietly leave, but before he can even take another step forward he feels someone grab his hand, stopping him. When he glances over his shoulder, he sees that it’s Lydia. She smiles at him and then looks toward her mother. “Mom, can Jordan join us?”  
  
Natalie beams from somewhere ahead of them, “of course he can, honey!”  
  
Jordan opens his mouth to kindly decline the offer, but he knows that any protest he takes isn’t going to be heeded to, so he lets Lydia link her arm with his, while she grins brightly at him. “You’re coming with me, _deputy_.”

 

 

**

 

  
Surprisingly, dinner goes well, even though Lydia spends half of the time teasing Jordan. She keeps holding his hand underneath the table or stroking her bare foot up and down his leg, making him get all flustered. It gets to a point where it’s almost hard for her to contain her laughter, especially when the Sheriff tells Jordan that he looks sick and should go outside and get some air. Jordan obliges immediately, getting up from his seat and hurrying outside. Lydia excuses herself too after a few minutes, saying she needs to use the ladies room when really she goes and follows Jordan outside.  
  
They end up kissing against his car in the parking lot.  
  
Lydia’s pressed up against the passenger door while Jordan does wonders with his lips, kissing her softly but passionately, as if she’s something fragile that needs to be handled with care. And in a way, she kind of is. She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her until she can feel his warmth radiating off of him, setting her skin on fire. It’s been far too long since the last time Lydia felt like this, since the last time she actually felt _good_ about herself. In her first early stages of the cancer, her sense of self worth immediately plummeted. All her confidence and self esteem that she so proudly once had vanished as the feelings of anxiety, depression, and emotional trauma set in. Lydia still remembers the one time her ex-boyfriend, Jackson, had come to visit her and she didn’t let him see her, because she couldn’t possibly imagine what he would think, seeing her with almost all her hair gone and her body sickly thin. Jackson was very vain, to the point where he would criticize her sometimes for what she was wearing or how she looked a certain day. Now, Lydia wonders why in the hell she was even with him in the first place.  
  
Jordan, on the other hand, is nothing like Jackson. And anyone with common sense can see it immediately. Jordan sees her for who she is, the person _beyond_ the cancer, and he loves her, not despite of all her faults and everything she’s been through, but he loves her because of all of it.  
  
She feels his lips pull away from hers softly, and he moves a little so that he’s staring into her eyes and she’s staring into his. His finger curls a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. “I think we should go back, before the others get suspicious,” Jordan says with an arched eyebrow.  
  
Lydia lets out a little noise of complaint. “I dunno, I kinda just want to kiss you some more,” she says, biting her lower lip deviously while looking up at him.  
  
Jordan chuckles, tilting her chin up gently to give her a quick chaste kiss on the lips before promptly pulling away. “As much as I’d like to do just that, I don’t like the idea of your mom finding us making out Lyds,” he says, and the shortening of her name surprises her. But she doesn’t question it, she kind of likes it actually.  
  
“It’s fine, she’s like madly in love with you now,” Lydia teases and then adds in a whisper, “she totally wants you to have my babies.”  
  
Watching Jordan’s eyes go wide and his cheeks flush to a deep red makes Lydia laugh uncontrollably, and eventually she allows him to take her back inside, where they’re questioned by the Sheriff on why they took so long, getting a few chuckles from both Derek and Stiles. The rest of the evening passes by fairly quickly with conversation, laughter, and lots of great food. By the end of the night, as Lydia’s congratulating and saying goodbye to the others, her mother informs her that she has to go see a late night client and won’t be able to drop her back to the hospital. Lydia smiles, “It’s okay mom, Jordan can drop me.”  
  
Her mother hugs her goodbye for now, promising to come see her tomorrow morning. Lydia watches as her car exits out of the lot and then she turns to Jordan, they’re the only two left. Jordan smiles at her and opens the passenger door of his car for her, “Where to?”  
  
Lydia smiles in reply.

 

**

 

First, they get ice cream. Because Lydia hasn’t had ice cream for months and Kira isn’t there to scold her about it.  
  
Then they head to Jordan’s apartment. And when Lydia walks inside, closely followed by Jordan, because she’s starting to feel tiredness in her ankles, the strawberry blonde examines the place with great interest. It’s small and tidy but just perfect enough for Lydia to fall in love with it. She makes her way over to the couch, sitting and bringing her legs up while she glances at the family photos he has on the side table.  
  
“Are you cold?” Jordan suddenly asks her. “Do you want me to get you a blanket?”  
  
Lydia shakes her head. “No, all I want is you.” She smiles at him, and he smiles back as she watches him shrug out of his jacket before joining her on the couch.  
  
She cuddles close to him and they stay like that for the longest time, in complete silence, their hands being the only parts of them actually speaking, as their fingers discovered each other’s bodies. Lydia slips a hand underneath Jordan’s shirt, her cool fingers stroking circles into his hot skin, while his fingers caressed the bare skin of her thigh, respectfully not going further past the hem of the dress she’s wearing. But the innocent touching soon turns into kissing, slow and soft but then quickly turning needy and impassioned as their tongues start to twine together in an open mouth kiss. And it didn’t take long before Jordan is hovering over her, Lydia gently pinned underneath him, his lips leaving hers and then trailing down her throat, making the strawberry blonde sigh softly. When he pulls away from her skin, she notices how his eyes are dark and blown with desire, and she wonders if hers shows a similar look, because her skin is burning and she feels a pool of heat coiling deep in her abdomen, something she hasn’t felt since she was with Jackson, and even then it wasn’t as intense as it was now.  
  
“I never told you how amazing you look in that dress,” he whispers against the crook of her neck.  
  
Lydia smiles, because for once, she knows she looks amazing. Her mother had bought her the blue lace dress a while back and Lydia was surprised that it still even fit her, since she had lost a lot of weight from the last time she tried it on. Her fingers tangle in his hair as she whispers against his ear, “You know how it’ll look better?”  
  
Jordan raises his head, looking at her curiously. “How?”  
  
“On the floor.”  
  
His eyes widen at her suggestion and she almost regrets saying it in the first place. _Almost._  “Are...you sure about that?” he asks her, slowly.  
  
Lydia doesn’t need to think twice about her answer. “Yeah, I am. Are you sure you’ll still love me in the morning?”  
  
“Of course,” Jordan says while stroking her hair, “as if that’s even a question to ask.”  
  
“Good,” Lydia says with a smile. “Because for a minute there I was going to make you do an unbreakable vow.”  
  
He arches a questioning eyebrow at her. “Harry potter reference? What’s an unbreakable vow?”  
  
“You’ll find out in book six.” She laughs and he carries her to his bed.

 

 

**

 

It’s finally July.  
  
It’s officially been a month since Lydia graduated, and seven months since the doctors told Lydia that she wouldn’t live for more than six. Jordan feels like the happiest person alive when he hears this news, but Lydia beats him to it. When the doctors checked up on her again, they said that she’s surprisingly showing improvement, but not enough improvement to get better again. It’s a bittersweet moment but Lydia smiles through it nevertheless. _Better than getting worse_ , she tells him.  
  
They start to go on dates more often—watching movies, going on long drives, or just staying at Jordan’s apartment and cuddling. It’s not as often as Jordan or Lydia would like, because if it was up to them, they would spend every waking moment with each other. But amidst the blood transfusions and Lydia’s constant need for rest, Jordan understands and knows that nothing is more important to him than her health. And even though they aren’t able to go out sometimes, Jordan makes up for it by still reading to her. It took them the longest time to read through the fifth book, being the largest book in the Harry Potter series, but they manage to do it—even though they skip through many parts, since it isn’t Lydia’s favorite book anyways—and Jordan’s still mind boggled that he read over seven hundred pages.  
  
He isn’t much of a reader, but he’s definitely a Harry Potter enthusiast now. A questionable one, at least.  
  
“I still don’t understand why Snape killed Albus Dumbledore,” Jordan says, sitting next to Lydia at the hospital. He notices how she looks awfully weak today, and she tells him it’s because she hasn’t had a blood transfusion the whole day.  
  
“Because of the unbreakable vow,” Lydia explains. “Draco couldn’t have killed him, and if Snape didn’t carry out the deed, he would have died.”  
  
Jordan frowns. “But...It’s Dumbledore. Everyone likes Dumbledore!”  
  
“Jordan—“  
  
“And can Harry really not come back to Hogwarts for his last year? He can just drop out like that and go after Voldemort?!”  
  
Lydia can’t help but giggle. “He’s the boy who lived. He can do whatever he wants.”  
  
“Okay but—“  
  
“Jordan, can we please start reading?” She interrupts him.  
  
He blushes. “Right. Sorry. Got carried away,” he says as he opens up the very last book which they started a while back. He opens up to the page he bookmarked and just as he’s about to read, Lydia stops him again.  
  
“Hey...If I fall asleep, can you keep reading?” She asks, her voice a whisper.  
  
Jordan furrows his eyebrows. It’s a strange request because she’s never said such a thing anymore. And before he can question her, she quickly adds, “Your voice is soothing.”  
  
Her smile clears all doubts in his mind as he nods, “Yeah, sure.”  
  
“Thanks,” she says softly again. “I love you.”  
  
Again, he doesn’t expect that. She usually never expresses it so easily. She only ever says it when they’re absolutely alone, in his car or at his apartment, and she definitely doesn’t say it as much as he does to her. But Jordan doesn’t question it. Instead, he just begins reading where he left off, his eyes glued to the pages in front of him.  
  
 _’But this is touching, Severus,’ said Dumbledore seriously, ‘Have you grown to care for the boy after all?’  
  
‘For him?’ shouted Snape. ‘Expecto Patronum!’  
  
From the tip of his wand burst the silver doe. She landed on the office floor, hounded once across the office, and soared out the window. Dumbledore watched her fly away, and as her silvery glow faded he turned back to Snape, and his eyes were full of tears.  
  
‘After all this time?’  
  
‘Always,’ said Snape.  
  
_ Jordan pauses after that, “Hey, isn’t that one of your favorite scenes you were talking—“ But when he glances up to look at her, her eyes are closed and she’s fast asleep. Jordan smiles softly and remembering what had told him, he continues reading.

 _...And next, Snape was kneeling in Sirius’s old bedroom. Tears were dripping from the end of his hooked nose as he read the older letter from Lily. The second page carried only a few words:  
  
could ever_ _have been friends with Gellert Grindelwald. I think her mind’s going, personally!  
  
Lots of love,  
Lily  
  
_ Thinking that’s a good place to stop for the night, Jordan saves the page and closes the book. He sets it aside and then gets up, walking toward Lydia and leaning down to kiss her on the forehead like he usually does before he leaves her for the night. But just as his lips brush against her skin, he realizes something’s wrong.  
  
She’s not breathing.  
  
Jordan’s own breath hitches as he processes that thought, his eyes widening as he immediately places two fingers near her pulse point, his heartbeat increasing with every passing moment.  
  
There’s no pulse.  
  
“No, no, no....,” his words come out choked, in complete disbelief, as his hands go to cup her face, “Lydia? Lydia? Please, please, wake up! Don’t go! _Lydia, please._ Please, please, stay with me! Please don’t go. Please.”  
  
But she doesn't even flinch. She doesn't even blink. And Jordan swears her skin feels cold under his touch. For a moment, he just stands there, completely frozen and unable to move. He can’t think. _He can’t do anything_. His eyes are stinging with tears and they nearly almost fall, but he doesn't let them as he suddenly rushes toward the door, while saying over and over again, “ _No, no, I’m not going to let you go like this._ ”  
  
He doesn't know if he’s saying it to Lydia or for his own reassurance.  
  
“ _I need a doctor!_ ” Jordan’s voice echoes through the hall and for a minute, everything is spinning. He’s spinning in circles, his eyes darting everywhere as he yells the same words over and over again, “I need a doctor! _Where’s the doctor?!_ She’s dying, _please_ , don’t let her die!”  
  
Someone grabs his arm suddenly, steadying him until he’s staring into Malia’s worried face. “Malia—Lydia—She’s—“  
  
Malia nods, trying to calm him down, “The doctors are checking on her, Jordan. Just sit down.”  
  
Jordan’s eyes dart toward Lydia’s room, “No, I have to be there with her,” he says frantically, trying to step forward towards the room, but Malia restrains him by holding tightly on to his arm.  
  
“Jordan, she’s going to be okay,” Malia reassures him, “She’s a fighter, she’s going to be okay....We need to call her mother.”  
  
“I’ll—I’ll do it,” he says, stuttering over his words. He always does that when he’s nervous or afraid, and right now, he’s both.  
  
Malia nods slowly, letting go of him.  
  
Jordan’s just about to reach for his cellphone when one of the doctors walks out of Lydia’s room suddenly. Jordan’s eyes widen and he takes a few steps forward, “Is she okay?” But then he suddenly stops in his tracks when he sees what happens next.  
  
Kira runs out of the room. Crying. Malia takes one glance at Jordan with widened eyes and then goes running after her.  
  
And that’s all Jordan needs to see to know that she’s gone forever.

 

 

**

 

 

It’s bright and sunny, the day the funeral happens.  
  
But to Jordan, it will never be bright again, never bright and brilliant like the certain smile of a strawberry blonde.  
  
Initially, Jordan decides to not go to the funeral. He can’t go. He doesn’t have the heart, because he doesn’t have the heart to do much of anything anymore. It’s a struggle for him to _get out_ of bed every morning, because as the light of the early sunrise floods into his room, all he can think about is her smile. All he can hear is her laugh echoing through the room where they made love countless times. All he can smell is the flowery scent of her hair still evident in the covers that he doesn’t have the heart to wash again. But the thing that hurts him the most though, is that sooner or later, he _knew_ it was going to happen. He knew she couldn’t have stayed with him forever, no matter how much he wanted her too, and even though he knew, he still made the stupid mistake to bury it deep in his mind, to forget about it.  
  
And now everything hurt so bad.  
  
Sheriff Stilinski manages to get Jordan to go to the funeral though. And the whole time he’s there, sitting in the back of that god forsaken church, his leg trembles so much that Stilinski has to put a hand on his knee for him to stop. “Are you alright, Parrish?”  
  
Jordan stares at the older man. He wonders how he’s able to ask him that question so easily, _are you alright, Parrish?_  “No, no, I’m not,” Jordan replies, getting up abruptly in the middle of someone speaking a eulogy for Lydia, and quickly walking out of the church.  
  
He ends up watching from a distance when they place the casket into the ground.  
  
Jordan can make out the bright red hair of Natalie Martin, who’s crying on the shoulder of Melissa Mccall, absolutely devastated. Unlike her, he’s not that strong. He’s not that strong to let it all out, because for the first time in a long time, he finally feels the pain associated with losing someone. For as long as Jordan had been in the army, he was taught to not feel pain, to not feel emotion, because from what he was told that was the way to be strong. And for a long time, he had grown accustomed to that way, accustomed to not feeling anything whenever he saw civilians die or someone from his unit pass away. And at first, it was something he didn’t want to get used to, because it made him feel emotionless, devoid of any feeling for the lives lost. But now, the feeling rushes through him again, and he’s not empty for once. But the pain is overwhelming, wrenching at his heart, mind, and soul, and Jordan never wants to feel this kind of pain again.  
  
It’s too much, _it’s too much_.  
  
That’s when he realizes that someone isn’t strong because they bottle up their emotions, someone is strong when they’re able to show it, to let it all out. And Jordan isn’t that strong. When he sees them start to toss the dark earth over the casket, one by one, he has to look away. The tears sting his eyes again and he tries his best to stifle a sob and hold it in. He’s only partially successful though, because sooner or later, he feels someone touch his shoulder, making Jordan turn around.  
  
It’s Stilinski.  
  
And before one of them can say anything, the Sheriff pulls him into a hug and Jordan finally lets the tears fall as he sobs into the older man’s shoulder.  
  
“Just let it all out, son,” Stilinski says in a comforting voice. “Just let it all out.”  
  
“I can’t go on, _I can’t_ ,” Jordan whispers, his voice quivering, his whole body shaking. He doesn’t remember the last time he broke down like this. It’s a distant feeling.  
  
The Sheriff lets go of him, keeping his hands on the younger man’s arms steadily, and looking straight into his glassy green eyes. “You’ll move on, Parrish. She’d want you to move on.”  
  
And on that day, Jordan Parrish lost not only the love of his life, but also the strongest girl he ever knew.

 

 

**

 

 

Kira calls him a few days later.  
  
It’s anything but pleasant. It’s remarkably awkward, the way the silence seems to heavy between them, because they both lost someone they cared about so much. Eventually, Kira breaks the silence. “There are some things...that she wanted you to have,” she says softly. “I’d appreciate if you come and pick them up.”  
  
Jordan swallows hard. “I don’t know if I can.”  
  
“Take your time,” Kira replies. “It’ll be waiting for you here.”  
  
She hangs up without another word.  
  
A week later, Jordan finally musters up the courage to stop by the hospital. It’s late in the evening and he had just clocked out of the station, finishing his shift. When he walks into the hospital, for the first time ever since what happened, he feels a cold shiver run through him. It’s like he doesn’t recognize the place anymore. That anxious feeling from the first he entered surges through him again, as he walks down the hallway, this time fully glancing at every single person sitting in the waiting room, acknowledging them with a small nod or an even smaller smile.  
  
It’s amazing that he’s even capable to smile again.  
  
When he reaches Lydia’s room, the door’s open and he can already see Kira in there, her back to him. He hesitates outside the door for a minute, standing at the threshold as if something’s preventing him from going inside. His heart. His heavy heart is what’s preventing him. Eventually though, Kira turns around and finally notices him. She manages to give a smile, but it’s sad. Unbelievably sad. She sees that he’s standing at the door still and as if knowing his dilemma, she says to him that reassuring voice of hers, “please come in, Jordan.”  
  
And he does. He takes one small step forward and then another, and another, until he’s standing a good few feet from Kira, who’s staring at him with those big sorrowful eyes of hers. “I really appreciate you came,” she tells him, probably so that another heavy silence doesn’t sit in the atmosphere between them. Kira then turns around again, picking up something from the bed that he doesn’t see until she’s facing him again.  
  
“I can’t have that,” Jordan says as soon as he notices the item.  
  
“She wanted you to have it,” Kira repeats, “And I have to fulfill her last wish.” She extends her hands out and Jordan stares at the box, hesitating.  
  
He finally takes it though, his somewhat shaky hands gripping the cold and rough wood of the heavy box, turning it around so that he can see the golden lettering. Just holding the box puts another weight on his heart. Kira shuffles nervously on her feet. “I’ll leave you alone for a bit,” she says, biting her lip and then quickly hurrying out of the room.  
  
For a few minutes, he doesn’t move. He just stands there, holding the box. But then he slowly finds himself moving toward the unmade hospital bed that _used_ to be hers, sitting down at the edge of it, the mattress sinking under his weight, not as much as it used to when she used to lie on it. The box sits in his lap and his fingers tremble as he opens it. The seven books are placed just as Jordan had seen them before, in order from the first book to the last, a thin sheet of dust covering their spines from not being touched for so long. Almost as if he’s handling a delicate thing, and in a way he is, Jordan lifts the last book from the box, flipping open to the last page he had bookmarked. The last page he read to Lydia Martin.  
  
But just as the page flips open, a folded piece of paper falls out and drops to the floor. It’s slightly crumpled and as he reluctantly picks it up again, Jordan can’t help but think he knows what it is already. Slowly unfolding the paper, his eyes quickly catch the beautiful cursive writing of Lydia Martin, and the only reason he recognizes her penmanship is because he’s seen the notes she’s written when she would study. The note is surprisingly not that long as he reads it:  
  
 _Jordan,  
  
All I want to say is thank you for making these last six months amazing. You helped me come to terms with something that I never thought I would be able to accept. You helped me realize how it feels like to be alive again, and more importantly you helped me fall in love. Fall in love with you. Thank you for staying with me. I wish I could have stayed longer.  
  
Yours truly,  
_

_Lydia_

This time, when the tears fall from Jordan’s eyes, slightly staining the note in his hands, they’re tears of happiness instead of sadness. Happiness, because he was able to spend time with the most amazing girl in the world. Happiness, because he would be able to cherish it for the rest of his life.  
  
Jordan carefully folds the note again then, placing it back in the page he found it in. And then, clearing his voice, he reads from where he left off.  
  
His voice echoes through the empty room. _  
  
_

 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http//lostmemoria.tumblr.com)


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